Of Friends and Foes
by paganpunk2
Summary: As Christmas approaches, Dick is having serious problems fitting in at school. His lonely days seem to be ending, though, when he meets Kid Flash. Will their newly forged friendship prove strong enough for them to launch a rescue mission when their mentors go missing? T for language. Part of the Spark in the Dark series.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note; Hello, lovely readers! As promised, here is the start of the sequel to 'The Princely Pardon.' This is a Christmas fic, so my goal is to have it all up on or before the 25th. I'm bringing in a wider cast this time around, including Flash, KF, and maybe a little Superman. Happy reading!**

Bruce came into the foyer, shaking snow off of his head and cursing under his breath. Alfred entered from the kitchen a moment later and raised an eyebrow as a particularly coarse word left his elder charge's mouth. "Sir, I don't think that sort of language is advisable when there could be little ears nearby," he chastised, reaching for his coat.

"Sorry," the billionaire said distractedly. "The roads are awful again, and that damned European acquisition…" he trailed off, trying to let it go now that he was home.

"Have you still been unable to reach an agreement, then?"

"Yes, and it's driving me up the wall. Their company is _failing_, but they keep insisting on these ridiculous concessions…I'm about ready to just call it all off and let them collapse. The problem is, Lucius is convinced that we can get them at a good price if we just hold out a little longer." Stepping out of his soaked shoes, he caught the butler's pinched expression. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing that you could have helped, sir," he answered as he regarded the dripping suede. "I should have read the weather report more closely before I laid your garments out this morning, is all."

"I tried to stay out of the snow, but…" he shrugged. "It's everywhere."

"So I've heard. They shut the schools down midday." He paused. "I need to speak with you regarding the school, in fact. There was an incident today involving Master Dick."

"Is he all right?" Bruce asked immediately, eyes narrowing.

"Oh, he's fine physically. Otherwise…well, I fear that the conversation you and I had a fortnight ago may have been more timely than we anticipated."

"Where is he?" _I wondered why he didn't come flying in here to say hello. Most of the time I can barely get the door closed before he's on me._

"In the living room. I believe we should adjourn to the kitchen for this discussion, Master Wayne," he said seriously.

"Sure." He wanted nothing more than to rush in and comfort the boy, regardless of what had happened, but it seemed prudent to know the story before he did so. "Let's make it quick, though."

"Certainly." Once they were in the next room, Alfred took the unusual step of closing the doors.

"…That bad?" Bruce queried, taking a seat at the breakfast bar.

"He was very upset when I picked him up. I don't particularly want to see him in that state again." He took a deep breath. "According to the headmaster, he instigated a fight in the schoolyard during the lunch recess."

"I don't believe that," the billionaire said immediately.

"Nor did I, sir, I assure you. After speaking with the counselor and the matron, however, I'm afraid I have to agree with them that all of the evidence points to his having thrown the first punch. The fact that he refuses to speak to anyone about it certainly hasn't helped shed any light on the situation, especially since the other child was very vocal and has an absolute harridan for a mother."

"…Alfred, this makes no sense. It's not like him at all. He had to have been provoked somehow."

"I know. That's why I haven't done or said anything in the way of punishment, and would advise that we hold off on it until we can get him to tell us his side of the story. He refused to talk to me, even," he said, looking a little hurt. "He merely stared out the window the entire way home, and then went directly into the living room when we arrived."

"…This is the last thing I wanted to come home to," Bruce groaned, dropping his head into his hands.

"I'm sorry that I wasn't better able to handle the situation, sir, but as I said he's completely closed himself off. I honestly think the only person he may be willing to speak to about it is you."

"I'll give it a try," he sighed, getting up.

"If you would, Master Wayne, take a glance at the snack I took in to him a while ago. I have a suspicion that he hasn't touched it." He sent him a meaningful glance.

_Ooh, that's a bad sign,_ Bruce thought as he travelled the short distance across the hall to the living room. The room was dominated by a huge, sparkling tree that brushed the ceiling fifteen feet above. Looking at it, he thought back to some ten days before, when the three of them had driven far out of the city to a sprawling country farm. They had tromped around for hours in the woods, stopping to watch deer when they encountered them, as Dick rejected specimen after specimen. Finally, just as the enjoyment was starting to wear thin for both adults, the boy had squealed and raced to a stately Balsam Fir, declaring it to be 'perfect.' Relieved and relatively certain that the tree would fit into the house, they'd agreed immediately.

It had taken Alfred several hours to move all of the decorations down from the attic, and the sheer size of the thing had necessitated that it be decked over the course of two evenings. Dick had begged to be the one to put the star on top, and finally Bruce had relented, carrying him up the ladder and keeping his hands firmly around his narrow waist as he placed it carefully. Finished, they had all three stepped back to admire the flashing lights glinting off of hundreds of glass baubles. In the dark it made the room feel like a disco, but the boy thought it was gorgeous, and that was what mattered.

Tearing his eyes away, Bruce found that he wasn't the only one staring at the conifer. "Hey, kiddo," he said quietly, sitting on the couch close beside him. _He's not bouncing,_ he observed sadly. _Normally he's moving __something_, _jiggling a foot, at least. But he looks like he's been sitting this way since he got home. _

"…Hi," he whispered back without looking at him, seemingly entranced.

"How was school?" The only response he received was a nearly invisible shrug, more of a twitch that anything. His eyes slid to the plate on the end table, widening when they found three utterly untouched chocolate chip cookies. _Okay, now I __know__ something's wrong._ "I want you to know that I'm not mad at you, whatever happened today."

"Okay," he said hoarsely, not really believing it. _You told me not to fight, and I hit him first. I mean, he deserved it, but…I still started it. Even if you're not mad, you'll be disappointed, and that's worse._

"…You want to tell me about it?"

"…No."

"I need to know what happened, chum. I can't make it better if I don't know what happened."

"I know Alfred already told you," he murmured miserably. "I started a fight. Just like the principal said." He sniffed, fighting back tears.

"Okay," Bruce breathed, a little shocked. "That's not like you. You must have had a reason."

"I was mad."

"Oh, yeah? What made you mad?"

"…He's a really mean person, Bruce. He's mean to me _all the time_, even though I never did anything to him." He was losing control now, wet trails starting down his cheeks as he bent his face against his pulled-up knees. "_Everyone_ is mean to me, and I don't know _why_!" Sobs overtook him, and he felt himself being pulled into his guardian's arms.

"Hush, Dicky, it's okay," he soothed, on the verge of tears himself at the raw loneliness he heard in his child's cries. "Hush, now," he rocked him, knowing the motion had a tendency to work wonders on the boy. He wondered vaguely if his parents had taken him up onto the trapeze to rock him when he'd been sick or upset as a baby, and was just deciding that they probably had when the child pressed against him began to quiet. "Okay now?" he asked, looking down to find anguish-darkened eyes and trembling lips. _Oh, little bird, I hate how depressed you look right now._

"…Not really," he heard in reply.

"Let's talk a little about what happened, all right?"

"I don't want to, Bruce," he turned his face away. "I just…I just don't want to go back there anymore. Please?"

He sighed, remembering the content of his conversation with Alfred two weeks before. _His classes bore him, and he has no friends. The first part doesn't surprise me in the least, but the other…how could anyone in their right mind not immediately adore him?_ "Dick, I won't lie to you," he said after a pause. "Alfred and I have talked recently about switching your school, or pulling you out entirely and teaching you at home."

"Oh, Bruce, yes, _please, _please don't make me go back there," he begged. "Let Alfred teach me, and you too, _please_!"

"Hold on," he halted him. "There are a couple of things that make me hesitate to do that, and I want you to understand what they are. First, you need to be able to interact with people your own age. It's not healthy for you to only ever be around adults, and if we pull you out of school that's going to become very difficult. Second, I don't want to give you the impression that you can just run away from your problems."

"I know that. I don't run away unless you tell me to," he defended himself, looking a little hurt at the suggestion.

"I know you don't. You're very brave," he said quietly, wiping one of the boy's tears away with his thumb. _Too brave, sometimes_. "I didn't mean it like that. What I meant was that it's best to try and resolve whatever problems you're having with the kids in your class rather than just walking away from them."

"I don't have problems with them. _They_ seem to have a problem with _me_."

"And what is that problem?"

"They don't like me," he slumped. "I don't know why. They haven't liked me since the first day. It wasn't so bad at first, but ever since the end of last quarter they all seem to just _hate_ me."

"…You told me a couple weeks ago that you thought they just didn't understand you," Bruce reminded him. "Remember, the night we went sledding under the full moon? What happened to that?"

"They don't want to understand. They just want to make fun of me. I thought…I thought they were asking questions because they were trying to get to know me, but…they were just looking for better ammunition."

"It sounds like it's been going on for a while, huh?"

"Yeah. Like I said, since the end of last quarter."

_Over a month,_ Bruce thought. _They've been being awful to him for over a month, and he didn't say anything. No one said anything, not even his teachers. No wonder he was so excited to have as many snow days as there have been these past few weeks. How did no one notice this?_ "Why didn't you tell me, or Alfred? Or your teacher?"

"My teachers are always really busy," he shrugged. "They never really have time to talk. I got permission to go to the counselor once, but then the teacher let it slip where I was and everyone just made more fun of me. The counselor wasn't even in, so it didn't do any good."

"Why didn't you come to us? You know we would have listened, don't you?"

"Yes," he whispered, leaning against him. "But you're both super busy, too, and I didn't want to cause problems…and I was trying to do what you said. Resolve it." He shook his head. "But it's not working, and now I'm in trouble and I know it doesn't reflect good on you…" He squeezed his eyes tightly shut and screwed up his face. _Don't cry any more, don't cry…_

"I don't care about that, Dicky," the billionaire hugged him. "I just want to make sure you're okay. People will say things about me regardless of what you do."

"I know," he moaned. _That's the problem._

"So what did this other boy say to you that set you off?"

"He says a lot of things, all the time. He used to just call me names; Gypsy scum, gutter trash, stuff like that. Since report cards came out he says I'm a suck up because I get good grades. He…implies things about me and some of the adults. Things I don't really understand, Bruce, but they sound nasty, and like things you definitely shouldn't be doing with teachers. He says that's why I don't fail on tests and stuff, is because I do those…things." He paused. "Sometimes he says stuff about my parents, too. He said once that they probably deserved to…to die," his breath hitched. "I almost hit him when he said that. I almost did, but I stopped myself."

"Are those the kinds of things he was saying today?" He was raging inside, his stomach tying itself in knots as he reflected on the fact that his boy had been putting up with this kind of constant torment for weeks and had never said a word in complaint. _It must have been just eating him up this whole time,_ he bemoaned. _But he was so happy at home that I never thought to really question him about whether he was happy at school…_

"No. Besides, lots of people say those kinds of things to me, not just him. They bother me, but…I wouldn't fight them over it. There'd probably be too many of them for me to win, anyway."

"…Then what did he say?"

His voice dropped into something barely audible. "He was saying things about you."

"About _me_?"

"Yeah. He said you…you didn't really love me. That you just wanted me as a…a plaything. That it was unnatural, and that I was…" He clammed up suddenly.

"That you were what, chum?"

"I can't say it, it's got bad words in it."

"You have my permission to repeat what he called you, one time only."

"Okay," he let out a long breath. "He called me 'Bruce Wayne's little bitch fuckboy.'"

The man's nostrils flared as he hissed angrily. It was, he would decide later, a very, very good thing that he heard that phrase in the manor and not at the school, or he might have done something he would have regretted very much. "_What?!"_

"I'm sorry, I told you it had bad words in it!" Dick recoiled, thinking the rage on his guardian's face was directed at him.

"No," Bruce calmed quickly, tucking his ire back as he saw the confusion on his son's features. "No, Dicky, I'm not mad at you. Never at you." He cupped his cheek as they both relaxed somewhat. "You know that what he said isn't true, right? You're not…" he closed his eyes. "You're not what he called you. That is so far from the truth."

"I know," he nodded, giving him a tiny smile. "And I know you love me, even if you can't say it."

_Oh, kiddo…you have no idea, _he thought, biting his lip slightly.

"But it still made me want to hit him. So…I did." He looked away. "And then once I started I…I didn't want to stop. I just kept thinking about all those things he'd said, about me, and you, and my parents, and I…I didn't want to stop. I know I hurt him, the nurse said he might have a broken nose, but…he hurt me _first_, Bruce. Over and over again," he disclosed, wrapping his arms around his stomach as if each word over the months had been a blow to his gut.

"Dick, look at me," Bruce ordered gently. When their eyes met, he spoke seriously. "You didn't do anything wrong. Usually I would say that words should just be shrugged off, but what he was putting you through was unacceptable. You were defending yourself. If someone ever treats you like that again, though, I want you to come to me or Alfred before it devolves into a fight. Okay?"

"…Okay," he nodded. "…Does this mean I have to go back to school, Bruce? Because I still don't want to. Everyone else is just going to keep being mean to me, I know it. They…they practically cheered when the playground monitor who broke us up said I was probably going to be suspended."

"I don't know yet," he said frankly. "We're going to go to the school tomorrow and have a long discussion with the principal, and then we'll see. I'm sorry I can't give you a definite answer right now, but we're going to get this taken care of. I promise." Thin arms wrapped around his neck, drawing a smile. "So you kicked his butt?"

"Totally. He only hit me once."

"…You didn't give too much away did you? No fancy moves?"

"Nope. I just punched him a lot and stepped out of the way when he came at me. He fights like a rhino; he runs at you, but he can't stop or turn in time to follow you if you just sidestep. I barely had to do anything to avoid him, except that I didn't move fast enough one time."

"Did the nurse look at where he hit you?"

"No. I didn't tell her about it."

"Let me see." Dick shoved the collar of his shirt over to reveal a raised purple welt running two inches along the ridge of his collarbone. "Ouch," Bruce commiserated, fingering it lightly. _Well, at least it's not broken,_ he considered. "Does it hurt?"

"Kind of. It's okay. It hurt a lot more when he first hit me. He almost knocked me over." A tiny grin. "I recovered, though."

"Was he bigger than you?"

"He's thirteen. I heard someone say he's been held back twice. So, yeah, he's pretty big."

"He's a coward," Bruce opined. "…Here," he reached over and snatched up the plate Alfred had left some time earlier. "You earned these."

"…Will you have one with me?" he asked hopefully.

He couldn't help but grin. "You bet I will, chum."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: The entire time I was writing Geertz I couldn't help but hear his voice as that of Christoph Waltz' Col. Landa from 'Inglourious Basterds.' Happy reading!**

"Mr. Wayne," a tall, blond man with a slight Germanic accent pronounced, coming forward with his hand extended. "I am very pleased to meet you. I am Hans Geertz, the principal of this school."

"Mr. Geertz," Bruce replied politely, shaking. "We've met before, actually. Last spring, when we were determining what grade Dick belonged in."

"Ach," the blond shook his head. "My apologies, I meet so many parents it is very difficult to remember sometimes…should we get started, then? The other boy is already here." His eyes flickered over the billionaire's shoulder to where Alfred stood, his hand resting gently on Dick's shoulder. "Mr. Pennyworth, I am glad to see you as well. Will you be joining us?"

"Yes, I most certainly will be, Mr. Geertz," the butler intoned.

"Excellent. Please, follow me." They filed into his office, where a huge, muscular boy sat uncomfortably beside a painfully thin and perfectly coiffed woman who could only be his mother. Bruce barely bit back his smirk when he saw the florid bruises spread across the bully's face. _Nice work, kiddo. _"Take a seat, please. I am afraid there is not room for a fifth chair," Geertz smiled apologetically, cutting off his proud thought.

"Quite all right, Mr. Geertz," Alfred said gravely. "I have no qualms about standing. Master Dick," he said quietly, gesturing for the boy to sit beside Bruce.

"…Well," the principal clapped his hands together. "As you can see, we are all here. I suppose the best way to start would be for me to state what is currently known about the incident that occurred yesterday. It appears that your children were having a discussion out on the field when Richard," he nodded towards Dick, "leapt upon Roderick," he inclined his head towards the other child "with no obvious provocation. Upon being separated, Roderick immediately began to claim that he had done nothing wrong, whereas Richard declined to make a statement of any kind. I think we can see for ourselves which of the two came away from the fight with the majority of the injuries." He cleared his throat. "Now I must ask if anything new came to light overnight?"

"Well all I know, Mr. Geertz," Roderick's mother jumped in practically before the man's mouth had closed, "is that my Ricky required x-rays at the hospital yesterday. Who's going to pay for that? _I'm _certainly not going to."

"…We are not here to argue about financial reparations, Mrs. Van Cleave," the blond blinked at her. "I assume, then, that Roderick did not disclose anything new to you or your husband yesterday evening?"

"There was nothing more _for _him to disclose!" she snapped. "He was attacked, he told you as much! What more do you expect him to say?"

"And you, Mr. Wayne? Did Richard speak with you about this incident?"

"Yes," Bruce said evenly. It was taking all of his strength to keep from turning to the mountain of adolescent flesh beside him and just letting loose. _He must be almost twice Dick's weight, and have at least six inches height on him. This is ridiculous, he'd have to be insane to just jump this kid without due cause. Surely the principal, at least, recognizes that much._ Still, though, his son was watching, so he kept his tone level despite his outrage. "We spoke about it last night. And I'm afraid, Mrs. Van Cleave, that while Dick did instigate the physical portion of the fight-"

"Ah ha!" she crowed.

"-he had been unduly provoked on multiple occasions leading up to that moment."

"Provoked in what manner, Mr. Wayne?" Geertz inquired.

"Rabid name calling and highly inappropriate suppositions about both his past and current living situations."

"Sticks and stones, Mr. Wayne," the Van Cleave woman sniffed. "_Not_ an excuse for assault."

"This went past sticks and stones, madam," Alfred, to whom Bruce had told the entire story, contributed from by the door. "What Master Dick has stated happened is well into the realm of emotional abuse."

"I hardly believe that, Mister…" she trailed off. "…What was your name, again?"

"Alfred Pennyworth, madam," he replied stiffly.

"And you're, what, the family butler?" she pressed, taking in his clothing haughtily.

"For nearly thirty years, yes."

"Oh, well," she scoffed. "I wish I'd known we were bringing in the help. My household staff will all tell you that Ricky wouldn't hurt a fly. He doesn't even know what emotional abuse _is_, let alone how to dish it out."

"Please, Mrs. Van Cleave," Geertz cut in. "We are here today to determine what happened, not to argue over whose child is more of a pacifist. Mr. Wayne, what kinds of," he waved a hand in the air, "names and suppositions, specifically, did Richard tell you about?"

"Primarily references to his personal history and the events that led to my guardianship of him. Things I would prefer not be said again in his hearing," he said hotly.

"I understand your concern, Mr. Wayne, but I'm afraid that we must have the specifics." He turned to Dick, who had been listening to the proceedings silently, eyes downcast. "Richard, can you tell me exactly some of the names Roderick has called you?"

He glanced at Bruce, who gave him a tiny, if obviously unhappy, nod. "Yes, sir. He…he calls me vagabond trash. And…an interloper. He says my parents were bug-ridden thieves who never worked a day in their life, and that I don't belong around people of breeding. And he…he's accused me doing bad things with my teachers to get good grades." He bowed his head.

"That's a blatant lie!" the woman exclaimed.

"Please, Mrs. Van Cleave! Hmm…Richard, do you remember our school rule about when people say bad things about us?"

"Yes," he nodded.

"And what is that rule?"

"Ignore them, and move on to better things."

"Why did you break that rule, Richard?"

"I didn't until yesterday," he said quietly. "He's teased me almost since school started, and I followed the rule. I tried to ignore him. But everyone else calls me those things, too, now. I…no one ever wants to talk to me unless they're making fun of me. I don't have _any_ friends at all here."

Bruce had to give it to Geertz; the man did look legitimately concerned by what he was hearing. "So why did you hit him yesterday, then? Do you blame him for the other children making fun of you?"

"No. Well, yes, a little, but that's not why I hit him. I hit him because he…he said something new, and it made me so angry. I _couldn't _ignore it, Mr. Geertz. It…it was too mean."

"And what was that, that you claim Roderick said and made you so angry at him that you broke the rules?"

"I-" he went silent and looked beggingly up at Bruce. "I can't say it again," he whispered. "Please?"

"It's okay," he comforted him, his need to hold the boy warring with his burning desire to haul the bully on his other side off of his feet and give him the scariest talking to of his life. "Mr. Geertz, if I may?"

"Go ahead," he nodded.

"This is ridiculous," Van Cleave interrupted with a snort, dispelling the last of the 'fancy lady' façade she was trying to pull off with her expensive clothes and designer hair. "This is an act, Mr. Geertz, can't you see that? They probably rehearsed it last night so that Mr. Wayne wouldn't have to deal with the tabloids reporting on how his ward is _already_ proving a danger to civilized society. Nothing my Ricky could possibly have said excuses the fact that he was attacked by this…this half-feral Gypsy brat!"

There was a stunned silence. Even Roderick, who up to that point had been staring mindlessly at his fingertips, gave his mother an amazed look. Only Dick kept his face averted, not wanting to let her see the few silent tears that slipped down his cheeks. After a moment Alfred noted his posture and stepped up behind him, laying a hand on one narrow, trembling shoulder. _Oh, you poor, precious child,_ the butler lamented, waves of dislike rolling off of him towards the sallow wench a few feet away.

Bruce's eyes were blazing as his fingers tightened into whiteness on the arms of his chair. "Tell me, Mrs. Van Cleave – Janine, isn't it? - Tell me, Janine, how you feel about the fact that your child uttered the words 'Bruce Wayne's little bitch fuckboy' in front of witnesses. Because the last time I checked, phrases like that fell squarely into the realm of slander, and I'll bet there are at least fifteen or twenty other kids who heard your son say them and could be made to swear as much in court."

She swallowed heavily, her face paling under her makeup as she recognized the phrase as one of her husband's. "Roderick James Anderson Van Cleave," she said, her voice deadly calm. "Did you say those words? Those _exact_ words?"

He muttered something.

"Speak up!" she nearly shrieked.

"_Dad_ says it all the time, he's the one who told me that's what he is! You were there the other night when he said it! I just thought it sounded good!"

In what seemed like a biological impossibility, her pallor suddenly reversed into a massive flush. "You have been instructed so many times to keep our private family conversations to yourself, but you just don't _get_ it," she hissed. "I don't know where you got such a thick head from. It certainly wasn't my side of the family. Get up!" she ordered, rising from her seat. "Mr. Wayne, I apologize for my son's…political incorrectness," she said in a brittle tone. "There. Are we done here? I don't want Ricky missing any of the class time we pay so handsomely for."

"Mrs. Van Cleave, I'm afraid that it's a bit more serious than a simple apology," he shook his head. "Given Roderick's history of bad behavior and the several other corrections he has received in the past twelve months, I have no choice but to suspend him for ten days. Another problem such as this one and I may have to file for him to be expelled."

"…Fine," she stomped one heel, frustrated. "I suppose there's no winning when it's Bruce Wayne on the other side of the argument. Come, Roderick!" she ordered. As the bulky boy squeezed past Alfred, he shot a glare at Dick that made the younger child gulp. Then, suddenly, they were gone, the door slamming behind them.

"I am very sorry, Richard, that you were made to feel guilty for your actions yesterday," Geertz said quietly. "Usually I would suspend you as well, since you were the one who technically broke the rules and since you did cause injury, but had I been in your situation I do not believe that I could have held back, either. What he said to you was atrocious, and I am deeply saddened that words of that nature were voiced by one of my students."

"It's okay, sir," he said softly.

"I imagine that the other children will come around with time, especially once Roderick has been absent for a little while. He has been the ringleader of incidents like this in the past, although," he admitted, "his language has never been quite so insulting before. I'm sure you'll make very fast friends now that you've shown you won't take his abuse."

"Sure," Dick gave him a tiny smile. Reading the expression's subtext, Bruce knew that the boy didn't believe it in the least, and felt something twist in his chest.

"I must warn you, though, that if he or another one of the students begins picking on you again, you must not resort to violence. If this happens a second time, I will have to begin the formal disciplinary process, which goes into your record. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir. I understand."

"Very good. Well, Mr. Wayne, Mr. Pennyworth," he rose as if to bid them adieu.

"There's one other thing, Mr. Geertz," Bruce stopped him, not moving.

"…Oh?" he asked, sinking back into his chair. Lacing his fingers together, he leaned forward. "And what is that?"

"The issue of Dick's classwork."

"…Is there an issue?" he referred briefly to a file on his desk, frowning. "No, I don't believe there is, Mr. Wayne. He is performing very well in all of his classes. Straight A's at the end of last quarter, and from what his teachers have said he will repeat that this term."

"That's my point. It's too easy for him. He's bored."

"Are you bored in your classes, Richard?"

"I…yes, sir. I am. I like my teachers, but…I know most of the stuff we talk about already."

"Ah, _most_. So you are still learning a little, at least?"

"Well, yes." _A __very__ little,_ he thought. _And then it's all the stuff that they don't mean for us to learn, but are just saying to keep themselves from getting bored._

"So you see, Mr. Wayne, there's no reason to worry. He's still learning, after all. And if you move him up, his grades may drop, which would reflect poorly come college admissions."

"…He's nine, Mr. Geertz," Bruce blinked. "I think it's a little early to be worried about college admissions."

"It's never too early for that, I assure you. Especially if you want to get him into a good school."

"Somehow I don't think that's going to be a problem," the billionaire sniped.

"…No, I suppose you are right," Geertz nodded, suddenly reminded of who was sitting across from him. "In either case, I cannot advance him another grade. The board of directors would crucify me. He is only supposed to be in the third grade, and yet we allowed him to start out in fifth due to his unusual intelligence. That was difficult enough to get them to approve. Please, try to be just be happy that he isn't stuck relearning his times tables. You are welcome to work with him at home on more advanced topics, but I warn you that doing so may only increase his dissatisfaction with school."

"Mr. Geertz," Alfred stepped in. "It is more than that. His time here seems wasted, especially since he is not getting the positive social interaction with other children that was the primary reason he was enrolled to begin with. He brings home pre-algebra worksheets that take him five minutes to complete because his math skills are at the advanced trigonometry level. He tries to choose something new from a book list for a reading assignment, but cannot, because he's read them all. Master Dick is a child of remarkable intelligence and curiosity who is stuck in a place that is not nurturing either of those qualities. What reason can you offer for us to keep him at your school rather than trying to find another where his needs and abilities will truly be addressed?"

Bruce shot a mildly surprised glance at the butler, then turned back to the principal, crossing his arms as if to inquire, _well?_ Dick just beamed up at the Englishman, receiving a light smile in return.

"…I'm afraid I cannot do anything more," Geertz sighed. "I am sorry. This is out of my hands. If you would like to pursue the issue with the school's directors yourself-"

"No," Bruce said flatly. "That will take months, and I'm not paying for any more of his time to be wasted. I'll be transferring him to another school at the end of this quarter. Please inform his teachers so that they can wrap up anything they need to in regards to his files."

"Wait, Mr. Wayne, perhaps I _can_ do something-"

"No one should have to pull teeth and threaten in order to ensure that their child gets the best education possible," he cut him off again. "If this is the sort of service I receive for fifteen thousand dollars a semester, I hate to think of the lengths people with children in public schools have to go to for satisfaction. He's transferring out, and that's final." He stood, ending the discussion. "I'm glad we got this issue resolved," he tacked on, offering his hand.

"…As am I, Mr. Wayne," the blond said hesitantly, also standing. "I am sorry that we cannot do more. Richard is one of our best students, and we certainly do not wish to lose your patronage."

"Yeah. I don't doubt that in the least. C'mon, kiddo," he directed Dick to exit in front of him.

"…Don't I have to go to class for the rest of the day?" he queried, craning his neck to look up at his guardian.

"No. We're going home. It's Friday, so you can come back next week. It's not like you're missing anything here."

"Okay. Goodbye, Mr. Geertz," the boy said politely, his cheeks still a little damp from his earlier tears.

"Goodbye," he replied, looking unhappily after them. _Damn. I wish I __could__ have moved him up, if only to keep him at this school, but…perhaps there is a better fit for him elsewhere. The board will not be happy, but I was only backing up what they said last year. As for Roderick Van Cleave…_ He shook his head. _I would prefer one desk filled by a Richard Grayson to ten filled by Roderick Van Cleaves. _

"Well, that was a wash," Bruce sighed as they climbed into the car, left running to hold back the cold. "But at least you won't have to be around that Van Cleave kid much longer." _I should have guessed it was a Van Cleave; hell, I went to school with his father, and he was a total jackass. From the sound of things, he hasn't changed, and his kid is just like him. I don't care what he says about me in his own home, but to have told his son something like that when he had to have known that he and Dick are in school together…that was uncalled for._

"…Yeah," Dick said non-committally, looking out the window. _Ten days won't be enough,_ he realized. _There are thirteen school days left before Bruce says I can start somewhere else. _He remembered an incident he'd heard some of the girls talking about, much earlier in the year when they still let him sit within earshot of them. Another boy had gone to Mr. Geertz last year about Ricky Van Cleave, and apparently the bully's mother had had a fit, much as she had today. A week later, Ricky and several others had cornered the complainant in the bathroom and beaten him mercilessly. Everybody knew who had done it, but no one, not even the adults, could prove anything, especially since the hurt kid was so terrified that he wouldn't say who attacked him. As such, they'd gotten away with it. _And that other boy didn't even get him suspended,_ he thought, biting his lip. _I can only fight back so much without revealing things that could give Robin away. If he brings other kids to help him when he comes after me, I might not be able to do much._ He shivered slightly.

"…Dick? You okay?"

"Sure," he turned back to his guardian, trying to smile in order to keep the man from reading his fear. "I'm okay. So…where am I going to go to school now? Do I get to be home schooled? Please?"

"I don't know yet, chum. I'm still working on that. Maybe," he added, seeing his face fall. "We'll see, okay? But you're not staying at this school, that's for sure."

"…Thanks, Bruce," he whispered. "I'm sorry you had to leave work for this. I'm not trying to make trouble for you, honest I'm not."

"I know," he nodded, reaching across the seat to ruffle his hair. "You didn't do anything wrong. And you're not making trouble for me. This is something I want to do." There was something still off, he could tell, but he couldn't figure out exactly what it was and the boy didn't seem eager to give him any clues. _Well, maybe he's still just worked up about what that bitch said,_ he tried to ease his worry.

_'Half-feral Gypsy brat,' _Alfred fumed in the driver's seat. _The nerve of that woman. If anyone's child is half-feral, it is her own. To say something like that with him in the room! It's bad enough when such slurs are spoken by children, but for an adult to direct that level of hostility at an innocent boy…_ Glancing in the rearview mirror, he saw the still-forlorn expression on Dick's face and felt his shoulders slump slightly. _He simply cannot be permitted to wear such a look this close to Christmas. It's unacceptable._ Determined to do something about it, he pulled the car abruptly into the lot of a large mall.

"…Alfred?" he heard Bruce ask quizzically.

"No problem, Master Wayne," he assured, pulling into a spot. "I merely had a sudden, intense craving for a bit of frozen yogurt, and happen to know that this mall has a shop offering some twenty flavors and a myriad of things for mixing in." He paused. "Is that acceptable, sir? My apologies, I should have inquired before stopping."

"No, it's fine," the billionaire said quickly, knowing exactly what the butler was doing. Looking over to see his son's eyes wide in unexpected joy, he grinned. _And your plan's working already. Nicely done, Alfred._


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: For those of you reading this as a stand-alone, a few notes: the events of 'The Princely Pardon' resulted in a rather intelligent turkey by the name of Gobblehead coming to reside on the grounds of Wayne Manor, more or less as Dick's pet. Bruce allowed it because the animal basically saved the boy's life. **

**Also, it's two-fer Tuesday! Make sure to check out chapter two, which is also new today.**

"Knock knock," Bruce said, slipping into the turkey shed on the back lawn shortly before dinner. He found him sprawled on the straw, kicking his feet in the air as he read a book out loud to the bird roosted beside him. "What are you working on now?" he asked amusedly as he sat down close by.

"_A Christmas Carol,_" Dick answered, shutting the work as he answered. "Alfred gave it to me, since I liked _ATale of Two Cities_ so much."

"What was your favorite part?"

"Sydney Carton's redemption." He kept kicking his feet, stretching his arm out to stroke the turkey's feathers. "It was sad, but it was noble. I liked that."

The billionaire smiled. "Yeah, it was kind of a nice ending, huh? Even though he dies."

"It was better than if he'd let _Darnay_ die and tried to get Lucie to marry him afterwards. That's what I was afraid he would do for a little while. I'm glad he didn't."

"Me, too. So, what ghost are you and Gobblehead up to?"

"We're on the ghost of Christmas past. I just started reading it today." He shifted, rolling onto his back so he could see the man he was talking to. "I think my mom read it to me once, when I was little," he disclosed. "But I've never read it for myself."

"Are you enjoying it?"

"Yeah. I mean, I know how it ends – everybody knows how it ends – but it's still interesting."

"Good. I'm glad you like it. You want to go out tonight?" It was a silly question – Robin _always_ wanted to go out, weekend or not – but he asked anyway. He hadn't allowed him to patrol since the incident a few weeks before, when Dick had dragged Gobblehead over three miles through a heavy snowstorm in order to save him from certain doom as the Thanksgiving centerpiece. A snow slide had trapped him in the cave he'd chosen for a hide out, and Bruce had only just barely found him before he suffocated. The ban on patrol hadn't so much been a punishment as a precaution to make sure he had his full strength back before tackling criminals, but Batman had sorely missed having his bright little partner at his side and deemed that he'd waited long enough. Besides, a night out in costume always brought a smile to the boy's face, and that was a sight the billionaire sorely wanted to see after that morning's meeting with Geertz and the nasty Mrs. Van Cleave.

"Yes!" he squealed immediately. "Where're we going? What's the plan? Is it something big?"

"Whoa, hey, calm down, kiddo," he grinned at his eagerness. "It's a little different tonight."

"…Oh?" His tone was curious rather than disappointed.

"Well, do you remember me saying something about introducing you to Flash's nephew?"

"Yeah…?"

"I have a JLA meeting tonight, and Flash said he's going to bring him along. Not _into_ the meeting, of course, but just so that they can go out on their patrol right after. I thought maybe you'd like to keep him company in the lounge while we have our talk." He paused. "What do you think?"

"Yeah! But…" his face contorted suddenly into a look of concern. "…What if he doesn't like me, Bruce?" he asked, his tone somehow making him seem even smaller than he actually was. "What if he's like Ricky, and all the other kids?"

"I don't think you have to worry about that, chum," Bruce almost whispered, reaching down to smooth the boy's chaff-dotted hair back from his forehead. "If he's anything like Flash, he should be right up your alley. Besides, Flash said he doesn't have a whole lot of friends, either, especially since he just moved up to Central City."

"…Not a whole lot is still more than none, though," he reflected, biting his lip.

"Hey," he drew his attention. "It'll be okay. I have a hunch you two are going to really hit it off."

"Have you met him?" he inquired.

"No."

"Then how do you know we'll 'hit it off?'"

He laughed quietly. "Like I said, kiddo, it's a hunch."

"…I hope you're right. I'd like to have a friend who isn't a turkey. Or ancient, like you and Alfred."

"Watch that age talk," Bruce mock growled.

"I was teasing you," he smiled before going serious again. "But I would like to have a friend my own age. Even just one."

"You will," he promised. "It will happen, Dick." _Tonight, if there's any good in the world,_ he thought ardently.

"…So when do we leave?" the acrobat changed the subject, still not sure that this was going to work out but not wanting his guardian to see any more of his uncertainty.

"Right after dinner. Which is just about ready, by the way." He rose. "C'mon, before Alfred comes out to find us."

"Yeah, that would be bad," he agreed, giving the bird one last pat before he headed for the door.

"Hold up."

"Huh? What's wrong?"

"You've got stuff in your hair still," he said, bending down to pick out the last few bits of hay that shone obviously against the dark locks. "There. Brush the front of your jacket off." Dick did as he'd been told, sneezing once when he sent up a light cloud of dust. Satisfied that the butler wouldn't have a coronary when he saw the child, the billionaire nodded and moved to lead him back inside, stopping when he heard a sharp giggle behind him. "What?"

"Your butt's all dusty like my coat was."

Groaning, Bruce tried to look back at himself and managed to catch a glimpse that verified his son's words. Shaking his head, he swiped at the area viciously, cursing under his breath. "…Did I get it?" he asked. "Tell me the truth, it won't be very amusing if Alfred doesn't let us go out tonight because we came inside for dinner filthy."

"You're clean," the boy verified, grinning as he pranced up and reached for the man's hand. "It was funny, though."

"Yeah, yeah. Let's go, I don't want to be late. We need a few extra minutes for introductions."

"…Right." He glanced over his shoulder at the turkey, which had followed them almost to the door. "Night, Gobbles! I'll see you tomorrow, it's Saturday. We can read some more." As the door to the shed closed, an answering call echoed inside. "Ooh, I think he misses us already," he pouted slightly.

_This thing with Barry's nephew had __better__ work out,_ Bruce sighed internally as they crossed the yard. _I don't know what else to do if it doesn't. He sure as hell can't keep spending all his spare time with a bird._ As much as he appreciated the animal's help in locating the boy under the snow and was willing to show his gratitude by giving the creature a safe home until the end of its days, Dick needed interaction with other children. _Healthy__ interaction, _he specified.

"I was just about to come out after you, sirs," Alfred addressed them with only mild reproval as they trooped inside. "Your dinner is on the table. Go on ahead to the dining room, young sir," he requested, taking his younger charge's winter gear from him. "Please wait for Master Wayne before you begin."

"Can't we go together?"

"He'll be right behind you, Master Dick. Go on."

"…Okay," he conceded, turning and making his way slowly out of the foyer.

"He was with Gobblehead again," Bruce said, low, when they were alone.

"It will pass, sir, as soon as he has found another child with which to interact."

"If this doesn't turn out the way I'm hoping it will-"

"Then we will try something else," the Englishman said firmly, hanging his jacket. "He is a natural charmer, Master Wayne. The fact that the first youths he encountered in Gotham treated him cruelly will not be enough to deter him from continuing to try and form bonds with others. I'm sure of it."

"Well, at least one of us is. He seems uncertain about tonight. Three weeks ago he was ecstatic at the thought of meeting another kid like him, and now…just a few minutes ago he asked me what would happen if Kid Flash turned out like Ricky and the other children from school."

"From what I know of Flash himself, sir, that is entirely unlikely."

"I know that, but the fact that his first thought was that he'll be rejected is disturbing." He came to a halt just before they were within hearing distance of the dining room. "…He's been smiling a lot less than usual since yesterday. It's almost back down to where it was the first few days after we got him from the detention center. Did you notice?"

"I did, I'm afraid," Alfred sighed. "But," he forced his tone to carry an optimism he didn't truly feel, "everything will be fine. Tonight will be wonderful for him, and we'll have done all this worrying for nothing." He gave his elder charge a very brief pat on the arm, hoping to relieve the intense worry he saw in his eyes. "He'll be fine. You must let it go for now, at least until you see how this evening unfolds."

"…You're right. But it's difficult, Alfred. _Not_ worrying about him…it's one of the most challenging things I've ever done. No," he shook his head. "It _is_ the most challenging. And I still haven't managed to do it."

"If I know anything about parental concern, Master Wayne - and I think that I do - then you will never fully accomplish that particular task."

Bruce met his gaze in the dusky hallway and understood. "…I think I'm okay with that," he admitted finally.

"As am I, sir," the butler nodded gravely. "Now, if you don't mind, you're running the risk of being late for your meeting."

"Oh, hell," he muttered. "…Thank you, Alfred," he called after the retreating figure. _And not just for dinner,_ he didn't add.

"…The pleasure is all mine, Master Wayne," he acknowledged before sweeping out of sight.

Few words passed between them as they ate. Bruce noticed unhappily that Dick was merely picking at his food, taking minuscule bites that barely made a dent in the serving that Alfred had dished out for him. "C'mon, kiddo," he tried to encourage him. "You need to eat faster so we can go."

"…I'm not really hungry," he shrugged. "Sorry."

"But it's spaghetti," he said a little helplessly. _You __love__ spaghetti._

"…I know. I guess maybe I'm just still full from lunch."

_He was fine all day so long as we weren't talking about school,_ the billionaire brooded. _But he's been moody since I brought up meeting Kid Flash._ He betrayed a wince. _That little bastard sapped his confidence, turning all the other kids against him the way he did. Goddamn it._ Angry again, he shoved his final bite into his mouth with more force than he meant to and stabbed his palate with his fork. "Ohw," he spluttered through the sauce on his tongue.

"…Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, chum," he gave him a smile after he swallowed. "I just poked the roof of my mouth."

"Ouch," he wrinkled his nose. "I hate that."

"Yeah." He frowned at the boy's still mostly-full plate. "…Are you done, or so you need another couple of minutes? It's okay if you do."

"No. I'm all done." A cloud passed over his features. "I hope Alfred doesn't think I didn't like it," he fretted. "It was really good, I'm just…not hungry."

"I'm sure he'll understand. Maybe he'll wrap it up for you and put it in the fridge for later. C'mon," he jerked his head towards the hall. "Let's go get ready."

"Sure," he murmured, biting at his lip as his nervousness rose. He was suddenly glad he hadn't eaten more, because his stomach was beginning to churn. It only got worse as they climbed into their outfits and headed for the Zeta tube in the back corner of the cave. _What if he doesn't like me?_ he agonized. _It's bad enough that Bruce had to practically set me up with someone to try and get me a friend, but what if it doesn't work? What will he think of me if I can't even manage to make __one__ lousy friend my own age?_ He shook his head. _This isn't going to work. I'm so worked up about whether or not we'll get along that I'll probably puke all over his shoes…that should really endear him to me from the start. _

"…Robin?"

That was all it took; he _couldn't_ be weak in front of Batman, he just couldn't. "Ready," he said as steadily as he could manage, pulling his teeth back and squaring his jaw.

"Then let's go."

They stepped inside, and some of the boy's emotional distress was overwhelmed by wonder. He'd never been through the Zeta system before, and his head whirled with everything he'd been told about it as the cave vanished and a new room materialized in front of him. "Whoa," he whispered.

Seeing that they were alone, Batman let one corner of his mouth rise. "Well?" he asked.

"…That was awesome," he beamed up at him. "Will you explain how it works again?"

"When we get home," he answered. "Feeling sick?" he asked as they stepped out. Most people did, he knew, the first few times they teleported. He had personally nearly vomited, but so far as anyone else knew he was one of the very few people to have had no negative reaction whatsoever to the experience.

Dick checked himself before he answered. "…Nope." _Not from that, at least._

"Good." Placing a hand on his partner's shoulder, he let his voice soften slightly. "…Welcome to Mount Justice, Robin."


	4. Chapter 4

"…Welcome to Mount Justice, Robin." _With any luck,_ he couldn't help but think wistfully, _you'll be coming here to attend meetings yourself someday._

"Thanks," he breathed back, eyes wandering around the chamber and taking everything in. "This place is so cool. Where _are_ we, exactly?"

"Later," he said quickly, his arm slipping back to his side as a door opened. "Superman," he voiced flatly as the Kryptonian entered.

"Batman," was returned with a fair bit more warmth. "…And Robin," he smiled, greeting the boy. "This is your first trip to Mount Justice, isn't it?" he asked, approaching and squatting down to match his much lower height.

"Yes," he replied as strongly as he could. For all that he had met both Superman and Clark Kent several times and knew them to be one and the same, seeing the man in his full garb still overawed him.

"Well then, welcome. I'm sure you'll have the whole place memorized in no time. Unless, of course, Batman had you commit the entire floor plan to memory before you got here?"

The comment earned him a smile. "No," he almost laughed, knowing that his mentor would be kicking himself for not having done exactly that. "He didn't."

"Huh," his eyes traveled up to the pursed mouth beneath the cowl, then back down to the smirking boy. "Strange. But maybe he wanted you to explore it on your own. It's more fun that way. You find little secrets that didn't make it onto the maps," he winked.

The black-clad man cleared his throat loudly. "Is Flash here yet?"

"In the lounge. With Kid Flash," he added, standing. Sensing Robin's sudden discomfort, he went on. "You'll like him."

_Sure, but will he like me?_ the boy thought darkly even as he gave him the most confident look he could drag up. "Great!"

Superman tilted his head slightly. _Something's wrong here. He's not quite himself._ "Well, I'll leave you two to it. See you in the meeting, Batman. Robin," he gave him a fond look. "…Have fun."

"I will," the child nodded, knowing that it was the expected answer. "You, too," slipped out afterwards. He was embarrassed – _who has fun in a meeting? A meeting with __Batman__, especially? –_ for a half second before the superhero laughed.

"I can pretty much guarantee that I won't," he informed him, "but thanks for the encouragement." With that, he threw them a wave and exited through another door.

"…This way."

"Batman?" he asked suddenly. The dark cape stopped, then turned back to face him and waited expectantly, but he suddenly couldn't speak. He didn't want to belie his fear, not while they were in costume at least, but he also desperately needed just a tiny word of comfort. "I-"

The cowl dropped down in front of him unexpectedly, eye holes opened so that the boy could see the bright blue beneath that matched his own almost perfectly. "Robin, I want you to listen to me," the low, gravelly voice instructed him. "_You have nothing to worry about_. Is that understood?"

"…Yes," he gulped, still nervous but less so. His nausea faded as a black-gloved finger reached up and turned the lenses on both of their masks down. "…Thanks."

"Keep them closed. And remember what I said about your identity. No matter what, you are _not_ to tell him, or help him figure out, who you are."

"I remember."

"Good." He rose back to his full height, placing his hand back on the boy's shoulder for the briefest of seconds. Had there been anyone watching it would have looked as if he had merely used the smaller figure for leverage as he got up, but Robin felt the tiny squeeze that had been relayed. "…This way," he said again.

They walked down a long corridor from which several other halls and rooms blossomed before they turned into a comfortable space dominated by a huge television and quite possibly the comfiest looking sofa the boy had ever seen. There was something on the screen, but it had been muted so as to not interfere with the low conversation of the two people on the couch. Neither one looked up as they entered and drew up behind them. _They must be really involved in their discussion,_ Robin thought, feeling a little guilty that they would be interrupting. Unbeknownst to him, their talk wasn't what kept the seated figures unaware of their approach; he had developed a level of stealth approaching that of his mentor over the past nine months, and even had the speakers been completely silent, they wouldn't have realized there was anyone else present.

"Yeah, but what if-" the smaller form asked, his face anxious.

"It's okay, Kid," the other answered soothingly. "Just relax. You're going a mile a minute already – not that I should be surprised – and he's not going to be used to that. Just be yourself. You'll be fine."

"But Unc-"

Batman coughed purposefully, cutting the sentence off before a name could be mentioned, making both speedsters jump. "Flash," he said in the same way he'd greeted Superman.

"Hey, Batman," the man got up and moved around the furniture to join them, gesturing for his protégé to do the same. "You've got to be Robin, then," he gave the dark haired boy a smile. "I like the outfit. Good color choice," he joked, plucking at his own red suit.

"…Thank you. It's nice to meet you. I…Batman's talked about you." He was suddenly glad for all of the etiquette lessons Alfred had been putting him through; without them, he wasn't sure he'd have been able to speak at all.

"Really?" He looked legitimately surprised.

"I can't educate him thoroughly without occasionally mentioning other members of the League," Batman admitted begrudgingly.

"And here we all thought you didn't like us," he shook his head with an exaggerated sigh of relief.

"…They're waiting for us," the cowl growled, not bothering to respond to the taunt.

"All right, all right. Batman, Robin, this is Kid Flash. Kid, this is Batman and Robin. I think you know which one is which."

"Hi," the two boys said awkwardly, glancing at one another, then away, then back again.

Batman didn't say a word, simply waiting a second to make sure there was nothing else to be cleared up before he turned and headed for the hallway. "Be good, Robin," he admonished just before he vanished.

"…What he said, Kid. No shenanigans." Flash clapped his nephew on the back before following the other man. "And have some fun, you two!"

"Sooo…" Kid Flash breathed when the adults were gone. "Hi."

"Hi," Robin replied, sneaking a peek at the other youth. His fears eased a bit as he realized that the redhead looked as nervous as he felt. "…I think we already did that part, didn't we?" he joked, trying to break the tension.

"Yeah, heh," the older boy laughed shortly, his hand rising to the back of his head to scratch. "We did."

"So, um…what were you watching? Anything good?" Robin asked, inclining his head towards the television.

"Oh…" he blushed, and was suddenly unable to keep his words from pouring out at any less than a twice-normal speed. "Iwatchinfomercialsometimesca usethey're kindafuntomakefunofyaknow?" When he saw the younger child staring at him, mouth slightly open, he almost burst into tears. _This isn't working, Uncle Barry,_ he wanted to scream, anything to make him come back and take him home so he could curl up in bed and forget that he'd ever wanted a real friend. _It's freaking hopeless, the first words out of my mouth were that I watch infomercials for __fun__ and I said them so fast it'll be a miracle if he doesn't think I've started speaking in tongues!_ "…I know it's really weird," he said, managing to get himself back under control, "but…" _Please, please don't hate me anyway?_

"No way."

"No way…what?" _No way he wants to be around a weirdo, that's what,_ he lambasted himself. _I couldn't have waited five minutes to bring that up? I could have lied and said 'nothing.' Or, you know, at least told him what a freak I am at a pace he might have had a chance of understanding. Jeez, West, too bad your brain isn't as quick as your mouth._

"No way do you watch infomercials and make fun of them." A smirk was spreading across his lips. "I _totally_ do the same thing!"

"You – really? Wait…you _understood_ me?" Kid Flash looked over at him finally, _really_ looked over at him, and the delighted grin he found wreathing the other boy's face allayed his awkwardness somewhat. "You wouldn't just say that to make fun of me, would you? I mean, you really understood that? And – and you _don't mind_?" he asked, cautious despite the complete lack of malice in the younger child's expression.

"No," he shook his head. "That would be really mean. You want proof I don't mind? Two words: Smart Mop."

"…Better yet, ShamWow," the redhead countered, snickering slightly. "That guy's hilarious."

"Snuggies!"

"The Ab Circle!"

"Oh, man, the Ab Circle," Robin broke down into giggles. "That one's _terrible_!"

"I know, right?"

"There should be a special level of heck for people who write those commercials, and they'd have to watch their own crap play for all eternity."

"Duuuude," Kid Flash's eyes were wide and bright. "There _totally_ should be!" _Oh, this is so cool. _

"Oh, this is so cool," the smaller boy said an instant later. _This…this might work._

"…I was so just thinking that exact thing!"

"Seriously?!" They were both completely engulfed in relieved laughter now, bending nearly double as their misgivings evaporated. "…So what's this one hocking? Like a new salad shooter or something?" the acrobat asked when they'd managed to straighten and exchanged slightly less wary grins.

"Let's find out," the speedster suggested, moving back around the end of the couch and reaching for the remote. Robin, feeling a fair bit happier now that the initial few minutes had passed and he hadn't been rejected offhand, gripped the back of the couch, swung his legs into the air, and did a brief handstand before curling and letting himself land amongst the soft cushions. "…Whoa. Dude," he heard gasped. "Whaaaat…?"

Batman's partner swallowed hard. _Uh oh. I blew it. That's what freaked the kids at school out, too. _He'd made the mistake of walking on his hands the first day, which hadn't been so bad in and of itself but _had_ led to challenges to do stranger and stranger things. He'd spent many dark hours isolating the exact moment the other children in the schoolyard had labeled him as a real circus freak, and finally determined that it was when someone said he should do his best trick. Lacking a trapeze or anything else he could swing on without attracting adults, he'd twisted himself into the most advanced contortion he knew, eager to please his audience. A couple of the popular girls had screamed at the sight, saying it reminded them of a horror movie, and even several of the boys had looked ill. Remembering their faces, he bit his lip, regretting his natural gift for only the second time in his life. _It was going so well…_ "Sorry," he whispered, not looking at him.

"Sorry for what? That was _awesome_!"

"…Really?"

"Uh, yeah? You were just like, _whoosh_, and your feet were in the air. And you didn't screw up the landing or anything! It was all, _plunk_, yep, I'm sitting here now!"

"…Thanks."

"So what else can you do?" the older boy asked excitedly, sitting down next to him and crossing his legs Indian style, infomercials completely forgotten. "Unc – I mean, Flash said you can do all sorts of crazy acrobatics and, like, turn yourself into a pretzel and stuff."

"Well…yeah," he admitted slowly. _Batman must have told him, I haven't been on the news or anything yet. I didn't know he talked about me when he was with the JLA, though. Huh._

"Could I see some more of your moves? I can't do hardly anything like that. I can barely even manage a handstand, I have to be up against a wall to do it."

Robin's desire to do whatever he was asked, anything that would make this new acquaintance like him, battled with his fear that showing him what he was practically begging to see would end as it had with his classmates. "I…I haven't really performed for an audience in a while," he tried to make an excuse.

"That's okay. I don't mind. C'mon, _please_?"

"I-" he swallowed hard. "…Promise you won't think I'm weird, or a…a freak, or anything?" _I guess you could __think__ those things, so long as you were still nice to me,_ he allowed mentally.

"Why would I think that?"

"Some people do," he shrugged. "…A _lot_ of people do."

"_Normal_ people, maybe. But I'm not normal. Ask anyone I go to school with," he said bitterly.

"…You, too, huh?"

"Yeah…"

"Bullies_ suck,_" Robin spat suddenly.

"Totally," Kid Flash nodded. "Mine likes to shove me into lockers, take my lunch money...all the standard bully stuff. He's not very smart, so I figure it's all he can manage. It still hurts, though, especially since he only does it to _me_…" He trailed off. "What's yours do?"

"He…calls me names," the younger boy disclosed, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. "Really…awful things. Says things about my parents, and about Br-…other people. He…he says those things a _lot_…" He blinked back his tears, refusing to cry in front of someone he'd just met, but his pain showed on his face anyway. "I dunno, I guess it's stupid to be so upset over things people say, but…"

"But it still hurts," the redhead finished sympathetically for him. "I know what you mean, bro. Grownups tell you that words can't hurt you, but they're wrong. Way wrong."

"Yeah. They are." His voice came out high with repressed emotion, and he quickly cleared his throat. "Anyway…"

"So…would you show me something cool? I promise I won't make fun of you," he tacked on quickly when he caught him biting at his lip again.

"…Okay," Robin capitulated slowly, rolling forward off of the couch and to his feet.

"That was pretty sweet, but I gotta admit, I was hoping for something a little fancier."

"That wasn't the _trick_, you dork," he rolled his eyes. Hearing his own words, he froze, his eyes going to the other boy. To his gratification, he didn't seem to mind the epithet.

"…Well, then, c'mon already!" he said eagerly, grinning in anticipation. _He didn't even __think__ about that handstand, he just __did__ it. If that's what he can do without putting his mind to it, the stuff he has to concentrate on is going to be amazing._ "Do something awesome!"

"Well…" he tried to think of something that would qualify as 'awesome' without going so far as the contortion that had turned the stomachs of so many others. _I wish I had a trapeze_, he sighed. "…Okay," he said after a moment, working out a complicated series of ground-based moves in his head. "Whatever you do, _don't move_. I might accidently hit you if you do."

"Cool," the redhead nodded, agreeing.

Casting one last look at the still-seated boy, the raven haired child took a deep breath, closed his eyes behind his mask, and threw himself forward into a succession of handsprings and flips that carried him to the opposite wall. Just before he crashed into it, he sprang into the air, twisted around, and pushed off of the vertical at a slight angle so that his return sequence resulted in him sailing over the goggling speedster's head and vaulting off of the couch's opposite arm. He slowed his momentum with a triple somersault – he'd wanted to do one of his signature quadruples, but knew he didn't have quite enough space - and landed easily on his feet. "Ta da!" he beamed, spreading his arms. "…KF?" he asked hesitantly a second later when the other boy failed to so much as blink, seemingly frozen in place with a bedazzled stare plastered across his features. _Oh, no, what did I do? How was __that__ creepy?! _ "I'm sorry if I was too close-" he started, but his apology was cut off as his boots left the floor and the room began to spin around so fast that he couldn't even make out colors. "Aahhh…"

"_Dude that was totally the coolest, awesomest, most amazingest thing I have __ever__ seen!"_

He winced at the overjoyed shriek that sounded in his ear, reaching for his temples with both hands when Kid Flash finally stopped twirling around in circles and let him drop back onto the sofa. "Shhh!" Robin hushed him as he continued to vomit praise. "They're going to hear you in China!" _Does he have super __sound__ along with super speed?_ He bit his tongue, knowing that the question might be taken as an insult if he actually asked it. The last thing he wanted to do was come off sounding like a bully himself, no matter how innocently he actually meant the query to be. _Holy gyroscope,_ he thought as the world finally steadied in his vision.

"Oh, right, the meeting," the redhead winced, remembering. "Oops."

"Just keep your fingers crossed we don't get a Batglare," he advised, glancing towards the door before sinking as far into the cushions as he could manage. _He's coming. I know it. Crud._

"Are…are they as bad as I've heard?" He paled, making his freckles stand out.

"…You have _no_ idea." He'd only been on the receiving end of one true Batglare, but that had been one too many.

"Save me?" the older boy pleaded, instantly pressed against him. "You're his kid, he won't murder you, probably…"

"Um, I'm not even sure _I'm_ safe after that aria you just performed…" _Please, please don't let them have been discussing anything important._

"Boys," a growl came from overhead.

"Well," Robin managed to direct towards the figure that still apparently thought he could somehow hide beneath his much smaller partner in crime, "it was nice knowing you."


	5. Chapter 5

Batman leaned over the couch, grabbed them both by the back of their costumes, and lifted them easily upwards. "Well?" he asked. That one word, he noted, caused two very different reactions. Kid Flash looked about ready to pass out; Robin, although he flinched slightly when the hand gripped him, merely sighed and tried to explain.

"We were showing each other our moves," he said. "I guess we got a little excited. We're sorry. Did we…did we interrupt anything important?"

"Yes."

"We're…double sorry?" Kid Flash tried weakly. "It was my fault, Batman, sir," he squeaked after another moment. _I can't let Robin take the blame for this_."I was the loud one."

"Yeah, but I'm the one who did the thing that _made_ you be loud, so really it's my fault," the dark haired boy objected immediately.

"_Yeah_, but _I'm _the one who _asked_ you to do the thing that made me be loud, so really it's _my_ fault."

"But I _agreed_ to do the thing that you asked for that made you loud, so _technically-" _he cut off as they were dropped without warning.

"…Just keep it quiet," Batman ordered.

"…We will," his son agreed gravely.

"Good." With that, he stalked away. Once he was out of the room, though, a tiny smirk flew across his features. _Very__ good. Defending each other already…_ Resuming his typical tight-lipped expression, he re-entered the conference room. The other six immediately looked up.

"Was everything all right?" Superman inquired.

"They're fine."

"…Batman, if I go home without Kid, I'll be murdered," Flash said, his joke coming out flat from mild panic. He'd wanted to be the one to go when they'd all heard the garbled squeal tear through the mountain, but one glance at the cowled man's posture had forced him back into his seat. _What'd you do, Wally? If you hurt his kid, he'll have my head…of course, if you'd done that, he'd probably already have taken it, so I suppose it can't have been too bad._

"I said they're fine," he repeated roughly. "But," he added just as they all went back to other things, "you and I need to have a private discussion after this."

"Ah...sure," the elder speedster conceded. _Ohh, that's not good._ He tried without much success to concentrate as the meeting droned on.

Back in the lounge, the costumed minors felt their adrenaline beginning to ebb. "Dude…" Kid Flash shook his head. "How do you _live_ with him? He's so scary. I mean, everyone keeps out of Batman's way. Is he ever…you know…_nice_?"

Robin shrugged. "It's mostly the cowl that makes him…you know…Batman-y."

"So when he's not in costume…?"

"He's different," he said quietly, thinking about their long weekend afternoons together, the nights when he fell asleep on the couch or the floor of the study and awoke being carried to bed, the gentle smile he, and only he, could occasionally cause to dance across Bruce's lips…

"Different how?"

He knew he was already toeing the line. "…I can't tell you anything else," he said sadly. "I'm sorry, but he told me not to. I'm not allowed to tell you my identity, or give you any clues that will help you figure it out."

The redhead looked slightly indignant. "_Flash_ knows who you both are, though! He just…said he couldn't tell me."

"Flash knows who Batman is in real life?" Robin frowned. _I didn't know that. I thought it was just Superman who knew…_ "Huh."

"…So?"

"I can't, KF. I'm sorry. I…I promised Batman." _And I've broken enough promises lately,_ he rued, specifically recalling the incident with Gobblehead.

"What'd you call me?" he wrinkled his nose, momentarily distracted.

"KF. You know…your initials," he flushed. "Do…do you not like it? I can stop."

"No," the young speedster pondered. "…I like it. It's kind of like in a video game, when you knock someone out and it's like, 'K.O.!' Only it's me." He was visibly getting excited again, and Robin shifted, wondering what kind of lengths he was going to have to go to in order to keep his new friend at an acceptable decibel level. "I wish I had an announcer, and every time I took out a bad guy, he'd be like, 'Kaay-EFF!' That would be so cool…"

"What do you think they're talking about in there?" Robin interrupted suddenly. He hadn't known what he was going to say until it was already out of his mouth; his only thought had been that the other boy's volume was swiftly rising again in his excitement over his new nickname, and that he'd _just_ promised Batman they'd keep it down.

"…I dunno," the redhead answered. "Flash didn't say anything before we came." He paused, a mischievous look coming into his eyes. "…We could find out," he suggested.

"No way," he shook his head.

"Rob, Batman said to be quiet. He didn't say we had to be quiet _in this room_."

The younger child couldn't argue with that. They hadn't officially been told they had to stay in the lounge, it was true. _Still, though…if they wanted us to know what's going on in the meeting, they would have invited us._ Something else about KF's words had caught his attention, too. "…Rob?" he queried.

"Hey, if I get a shortened version of my name, you should have one too."

"…Okay," he grinned. "Thanks."

"Sure," came smiled back. "So…are we gonna do this?"

"…I dunno. I mean…" he shifted back and forth. He certainly knew _how_ to eavesdrop – it was a skill Batman had taught him early on in his training – but he was less confident when it came to whether or not he _should_, especially since this wouldn't be spying on criminals or even just regular citizens, but their own mentors. _On the entire core of the Justice League, to be exact, _he clarified for himself_. On the greatest superheroes in the world…It would be really cool if we could actually pull it off._ He smacked a hand over his mouth before he realized that he hadn't actually said the last sentence aloud. _I can't believe I even thought that_. _Alfred would have a cow if he knew I was even considering it_… 

"Oh, come on, what's the _worst_ that could happen?" Kid Flash prodded.

"We could be grounded for the rest of our lives."

"Still worth it."

"…Batman," he reminded him.

"Yeah, but…I mean, he wouldn't actually use physical violence to punish us, would he?" The notion seemed to rock him a little.

"No. He wouldn't," Robin answered firmly, certain of that fact. "He'd just give us a glare that would probably end in both of us wetting ourselves."

The redhead considered that for a moment. "…Still worth it."

_It would be,_ he had to admit. _And if they don't catch us…_ "…We'd have to be super careful. And super _quiet_," he added pointedly.

"For this, I'll be so quiet you'll think I'm dead."

His mouth twitched downwards as he recalled the split second of perfect silence that had filled his ears as he watched the last spark of life leave his mother's eyes. "That's not funny," he said slowly.

"…Oh. Sorry. I didn't mean-" Wally West was no genius, but he could tell that his new friend hadn't taken the comment well and surmised that there was a particular loss behind his reaction. _Man, bullies __and__ dead people? That sucks double._

"It's okay," he cut him off quickly, shaking himself. "So…how should we do this? Any ideas?"

"…Do you want to talk about-"

"I _can't_, KF. Remember? Secret identity." He sighed when the other boy's shoulders slumped. "I…I wish I could, though," he confessed.

"You do?"

"I…yeah. I do." For all that he'd known him a grand total of an hour, he trusted him, partly because he now knew that their mentors had enough faith in each other to have shared their identities – although he felt safe in assuming that it had been done under some level of duress, or at least displeasure, on Batman's side - and partly because something about this new person just _clicked_.

"But Batman."

"Yeah. Batman." He shrugged. "I'm sorry."

"…It's okay." It was, he decided as he said it. When Batman laid down the law, there usually wasn't much anyone could do; Flash had told him that much about the other boy's mentor. "You know where we should talk about this? The kitchen," he suggested as his stomach growled audibly. "I'm _starving_."

"Sure." Having only picked at his dinner, Robin, too, could feel hunger beginning to gnaw at him. _There's no way there'll be anything as good as Alfred's cooking, though. _ Knowing that his taste buds were being spoiled for a minimum of two meals a day at home, he tried to prepare himself as they moved into the next room. S_omething's better than nothing. Maybe there will be cookies…_

"Uck. All that's in here is mayonnaise and old Chinese takeout," KF groaned in disgust as he examined the fridge. Gingerly opening one of the folded cartons, he made a gagging sound. "And I _mean_ old. Don't they eat when they're here?" _How does Uncle Barry stand it? I'd wither away in one of the shifts he sometimes pulls!_ _Maybe Aunt Iris packs him a lunch or something…_

"Bingo," the acrobat proclaimed, pointing to the very top shelf of one of the cabinets. The end of a Pepperidge Farm bag was just visible.

Kid Flash was immediately all business. "Okay, now we just have to get to them," he breathed, glancing around the room for inspiration. "Here," he said after a moment, bending and forming a stirrup with his hands. "I can lift you-"

"Want some? They're Milanos."

The redhead gaped as he took the bag. "How did you…I mean…they're up…and you…"

Robin shrugged, blushing a little. "I just climbed up and got them. It was easy. I do it all the time at home, it bugs Al-" he broke off with a wince, "-almost everyone crazy."

"…Wmphf?" the older boy asked unintelligibly, his mouth full of cookie. He swallowed. "What'd you say? Sorry, I was in a cookie coma."

"Nothing," he waved off, glad that his little slip had apparently fallen on deaf ears. "I climbed up and got them. I do that a lot."

"Must be nice." Shoving in another handful and chewing, he dreamt of all the delicious things Aunt Iris might be hiding on the top shelves or, even better, above the cupboards. His vision of heaven was interrupted by the other boy's plaintive question.

"Um… do you think I could have a couple of those?"

"Oh!" Now it was his turn to turn red in the face as he glanced into the bag and saw that there were only two left. "Sorry. You totally did all the work, too…"

"It's okay. You were hungry," he answered, taking the remaining treats good-naturedly.

"It's my stupid metabolism."

"What, is it fast, too?" Robin joked.

"…Yes."

"Oh." He chewed for a second. "Sorry. I wasn't trying to make fun of you or anything."

"I know," KF rebounded easily. It hadn't taken him long to figure out that his new friend was no bully. "You're cool. So," he rubbed his hands together. "Anything good in the other cupboards?"

"Nope. I checked while you were in the fridge. There's nothing."

"…Lame. I'm still hungry. Buuuut…" a dangerous smile leaked across his features. "…Listening in on the meeting will probably make me almost forget about it. So, how're we going to do it?"

"Well…" Robin pondered as he started on his second cookie. Had he not been concentrating so hard on how they could pull their scheme off without being caught, he might have noticed the way Kid Flash had to keep tearing his gaze away from the slowly shrinking dessert. _Superman implied that there are little secrets that didn't make it onto the map. So, what kind of things wouldn't make it onto a standard floor plan, but could be useful to us? _The last bite slid down his throat, but his ears didn't quite pick up the other boy's suppressed moan. _Air ducts! Or at least, ventilation of some sort. There's got to be tons of that stuff around, since we're literally inside a mountain. They've got to bring in fresh air from outside._ It wasn't what Superman had most likely meant, he knew, but that didn't keep it from being exactly what they were looking for. "We'll use the ceiling," he revealed.

"…Huh? I told you, I'm no good at being upside down and all of that. That's your thing."

"No, I meant we'll use the utilidors _in_ the ceiling. We should be able to crawl through the ventilation system until we're over them. There's got to be a vent or something that lets into every room, right?"

"Sure," the redhead nodded along, a little stunned. _I don't think I ever would have thought about crawling around in the ceiling. Rob's __good__ at this covert stuff._

"The only problem is…" he frowned. "Do you know where the conference room, or wherever they are, is from here?"

"I think so. Flash gave me a tour before you got here."

_Dang, I should have eaten faster. I want a tour, too_, Robin pouted to himself. _I wonder if Batman will give me one after the meeting's over?_ "Okay, so how do we get there?"

"Left down the hall, second door on the right."

"Easy," the smaller child beamed. "Now we've just got to find a way to get inside…" He wandered back into the lounge, Kid Flash on his heels as he circled the room, staring up. "Ah ha," he voiced triumphantly. "They made that _way_ too obvious." He gestured at a wide grate set into the ceiling. "That's our entrance."

"Dude, that's like ten feet over our heads. How're we going to get it down?"

"I'll get it." _I __could__ use my grapple, but…he thought it was cool when I was flipping around earlier._

"How..." he trailed off as a cape flicked by his nose, the person it was attached to already mid-way through a jump that let him piston his legs against the wall and fly upwards. _How does he __do__ that?_

Stretching his arms out ahead of him, Robin just managed to latch his fingers through the grate before his momentum gave out. _And now, for my next trick…_ Letting go with one hand, he fished a multi-tool out of his belt and backed the closest screw out of its hole. Keeping it balanced on the tip of his screwdriver, he moved it towards his mouth and gripped it with his teeth, not wanting to lose it. Knowing that the cover would shift when he undid the next one, he moved his weight as close to one side as possible before repeating his actions. As he'd predicted, the far end of the screen dropped dangerously, hanging down at a thirty degree angle as he tucked his tool away for the moment. _Okay…_ Stretching allowed him to sneak his fingers around the latticework and grip the edge of the air shaft, which fortunately began only a couple of inches above the ceiling. Once he was supporting himself on something other than what he was trying to remove, he quickly retrieved his screwdriver and pulled one of the remaining two anchors out. Then he loosened the last one just enough to swing the dangling cover around it, clearing the entrance, and pulled himself up.

He lay there for a minute, letting the ache in his arms fade, before rolling onto his stomach and letting one end of a thin rope fall. "Can you climb?"

"…Can you hold me?" _You're so much smaller than I am…_

"Sure." As he spoke he braced his toes and knees against the walls of the passageway. "C'mon up. I've got you."

"I'm gonna go fast, okay?"

"Sure." The rope tightened suddenly in his grip, making him hiss as it dug into his fingers. Almost as soon as it started, it stopped, and KF was sitting opposite him with a grin on his lips. "…I think I finally understand the name 'Flash' now," he said appreciatively. "That was cool."

"Thanks. I'm nowhere near as fast on verticals as I am on horizontals yet, but Flash says I'll get there with practice." His eyebrows drew together as he watched Robin untangling his fingers from the rope. "That didn't hurt, did it?" he asked, spotting the long indentations in his palms.

"Nah. I'm good. It's not even bleeding." He thought for a moment. "I'm pretty sure we need to go in your direction. Can you turn around?"

"Yup. It's surprising how big it is up here."

"I think it's designed to be large enough for adults to come up and work if something breaks. They wouldn't be very comfortable, but it could be done."

"Convenient for us."

"Yeah," Robin agreed, bridging the hole that led back down into the lounge and following the other boy until they reached an intersection. "Hold up." He glanced back over his shoulder, measuring how far they'd come. "We should turn right," he whispered.

"Why are you whispering?"

"Because sound travels in these things, and we don't want to get caught."

"Oh," Kid Flash nodded. "Right."

"Right," he gestured, pointing.

"Heh," the redhead half-laughed before making the turn. This portion, too, had a grate into the space below, letting just enough light up to keep them from being completely blind. It ended at a T, and he turned right again following an indicative tap on his foot. A few feet later he halted as a hand grabbed his ankle. "What?"

"Listen." _We're over the hallway, I think, but I hear something. _He strained his ears. _Yeah, those are voices. _ He couldn't make out actual words, but there was no question about what he was hearing. _ We must be getting close._ "Take the next left," he said as low as he could. _If their voices can be heard this far away, so can ours._

He did as he'd been told, and as he rounded the corner he picked up the sounds, too. Getting excited, he began to crawl a little faster towards the vent cover the now-clear sentences were coming from, ignoring the small hand that scrabbled at his boot in an attempt to get him to stop.

_We can hear just fine from back here!_ Robin wanted to tell him, but there was no way he could speak without making their presence known to the adults below them. Biting his lip – _we __can't__ get caught, KF, you've got to slow down_ – he winced as the other child's knee hit the floor of the duct just right, resulting in a low, metallic popping sound. They both froze, but the voices downstairs didn't waver, and after a few tense seconds they both relaxed. _Whew. That was lucky._ Gesturing for his friend not to go any closer, he lay down slowly and just listened. Kid Flash took the hint and did the same.

Below, Batman was just wondering how his son was getting along in the friend-making department when he detected a faint, hollow noise from directly over his head. Gazing down the table, he found Superman looking at him, a grin on his face as his gaze flicked upwards to indicate the ceiling.

_Air ducts,_ he mouthed, barely able to restrain his laughter as he saw the cowled man's mouth twitch slightly. Having had the advantage of meeting both the protégés before their mentors brought them together, he'd been certain they would be fast friends, and if the pair of excited heartbeats overhead were any indication he'd been completely right.

_We're going to have to work harder on stealth,_ Batman grimaced. _Actually,_ he considered a moment later, _that was more likely Kid Flash. Robin was admirably silent the last time we were in the field, and tonight as well, when we entered the lounge. I can't imagine him making such a basic mistake, especially when he knows that both myself and Superman are directly below him._

"So, if everyone has given their reports…?" The Kryptonian's voice snapped him back to the meeting. "All right, then. We're done." Hearing that, Wonder Woman, Green Arrow, and Aquaman departed quickly, each having other things to do.

"…What about the children in the air exchange system?" Martian Manhunter asked when they were gone, having also heard Kid Flash's misstep but sensing that interrupting the meeting to mention it wouldn't have been taken well.

"Oh, that." The blue and red-clad man smirked. "We'll leave them to their mentors. Didn't you two have something to discuss, anyway?" he directed at Batman and Flash.

"…Yeeeeah," Flash groaned. _Really, Wally? Access to virtually every television channel on the planet, and you decide to crawl around in an air vent?_

"Come on, J'onn," Superman said, standing and heading for the door. "Let's leave these two to terrify their young. There's something I wanted your help with, anyway."

Frowning slightly, the Martian followed him out, leaving Batman and Flash alone. "…Robin," the cowl emitted when there'd been sufficient time for the hallway to clear out.

He knew when he was busted. "Um…hi," he called back.

"Dude, are you _insane_? Don't answer him!"

"A little late for that, KF. Besides, he knows we're here."

In his seat, Flash felt a leap of joy. _Was that a nickname? I think that was a nickname. Nice going, Wally. Finally landed a friend._ He glanced over at Batman. _Even if that friend's mentor is one of the scariest people currently living…_

"Lounge. Now. And _stay there_," came a growl.

"…We're going."

"We are? But we didn't even get to hear-"

"…Do _you_ want to argue with him?" The sound of Kid Flash turning around in the air duct less than gracefully after a moment's pause informed the adults below that he did not.

"Soo…" Flash ventured finally. "What was it you wanted to talk about?"

"Next weekend."

"What about it?"

"First, I assume we're both interested in seeing this friendship continue?"

"…You're talking about the boys, right?"

"Obviously."

"Well, yeah, of course! I mean, we can't ever let them out of our sight when they're together, I think they've proven that much in the last two hours, but…"

"I was thinking the same thing. As such…there is a shipment of drugs coming into Gotham next Saturday evening. Normally I would handle it alone, but it seems like a good excuse to see if they fight together as well as they play together on a low-risk mission. Can Central City survive a night without you?"

"If I'm going to Gotham on a mission, Central City had better hope I'm not out for longer," Flash sighed.

"It's a simple heroin bust. If you're not up for it, we'll figure something else out."

"…I'll never hear the end of it if Iris finds out I took him to Gotham. But since you don't want Wally knowing who either of you are, which pretty much rules out any sort of a _normal_ activity, I guess it'll work." _Whatever it takes to make this thing with him and Robin work. _

"Good." He rose. "Let's go get them."

"You mean let's go 'terrify our young'?"

"…Yes. That," he almost smirked.


	6. Chapter 6

Both men paused just inside the door of the lounge and stared upwards to where Robin was hanging from the ceiling, meticulously replacing the screws in the air vent. Below him, Kid Flash was dancing impatiently, his feet a blur as he tried to evade his nervousness. "C'mon, Rob, they're gonna be in here any minute!" he called, completely oblivious to the pair behind him.

"Um…they got here like five seconds ago," came back down, and Batman couldn't keep one side of his mouth from curving upwards. _He didn't even have to look, _he thought proudly_._

"And you're still _up there_?" the yellow-clad boy exclaimed, whirling around. "Hi," he managed, swallowing heavily.

"If I leave it incomplete, I'll just have to come back up and finish it later," Robin answered reasonably. Tightening the last anchor, he tucked the multi-tool in his utility belt and let go, completing all four somersaults with plenty of time to stick his landing. _That might be the best one I've done yet, _he beamed. "Did you like it?" he asked, seeing the other child's expression switch from mild terror to blatant awe for a moment.

"…Was that _four times?_"

"Yup."

"That was _awesome_!"

"Not as awesome as you practically flying up the rope earlier," he returned.

"Damn, Batman, I knew he had to be good to be partnered with _you_, but that was pretty impressive," Flash said just above a whisper.

"…That was nothing," Batman replied, fully aware that his son was capable of other acrobatics that made a quadruple somersault from a height of fifteen feet look bland despite its difficulty. "Robin," he said evenly, raising his voice so that it could be heard over the compliments flying back and forth.

He shut his mouth immediately and turned to face his mentor. He knew that they hadn't _technically _disobeyed – they hadn't been told _not_ to eavesdrop on the meeting, after all – but he still pulled his lower lip in between his teeth, chewing it slightly as he answered. "…Yes?"

"Who made the noise in the air duct?"

He glanced over at KF, suddenly glad his eyes were hidden behind lenses so that maybe, just maybe, Batman wouldn't realize that his gaze had shifted. _I don't want to tell, but I don't really want to take the blame, either,_ he lamented.

The speedster beside him sighed before he had to make the choice, however, and fessed up without prompting. "It was me."

"Mm."

"We'll work on it," Flash promised swiftly.

"Good. Nine o'clock."

It took the other man a second to realize that he was stating what time they would be meeting up the next weekend, but once he did, he nodded. "Sure."

"Let's go, Robin."

The children looked at each, their desire to not split up just yet clearly etched on their faces. "Couldn't we-" the raven-haired one started.

"No."

"I just thought maybe-"

"I said no."

"…Well, when-"

"Robin." The name was spoken with a gentleness that made Flash disbelieve his ears. "We're leaving."

"…Okay," he almost whispered before giving the taller boy a sad but hopeful smile. "Bye, KF. I…I had a lot of fun hanging out."

"Me, too," the redhead agreed eagerly. "We could maybe…I dunno…do it again? Sometime?"

"Yeah! Definitely! I mean," he looked towards his mentor. "Well, you know. If I'm not grounded forever."

"Right."

Batman made a small sound then, and Robin scurried to his side, sensing that it was his final warning. "Bye!" he managed to squeak as a black gloved hand fell softly onto his shoulder and guided him around the corner.

They didn't speak until they were standing in front of the Zeta tube. "Robin."

"…Yes, Batman?" he responded slowly, unsure whether or not he was in trouble. The cowl turned to look down at him, and even though he knew it was a battle-mode Bruce underneath he couldn't help a slight internal quail.

"…Did you have fun tonight?"

He beamed, nodding vigorously. "So much fun," he whispered.

"Good," he whispered back. "I'm glad."

"You don't look glad, though. Your mouth is still all…Batman-y," the boy pointed out.

One finger was held up, commanding him to wait just a moment more, before the hand on his back led him into the transporter. They stepped out into the cave, and Robin looked expectantly upwards. Instead of removing his cowl, however, Batman knelt in front of him. "You know what you did tonight was wrong," he said matter-of-factly.

"…You mean the eavesdropping?"

"Yes."

"…Yeah," he admitted. He stared hard at the white slashes where eyes should have been, hoping that somehow his partner would sense that he was trying very hard to look straight at him. "But…"

"But what?" For all that he couldn't see where his son was truly looking, he had the feeling that the bright, trusting gaze he adored was fixed on him.

"Well…I _did_ hesitate. I mean…I knew we shouldn't do it, but KF was getting kind of loud, and I'd just promised that we'd be quiet…I never promised we wouldn't try to listen in on the meeting, so I thought…well…"

"The lesser of two evils."

"Right," he breathed, relaxing as what he was trying to say was voiced for him.

"…And? Did your choice work out? Was the lesser of two evils really lesser?"

He thought hard for several seconds. "Yes and no."

"Explain."

"Yes, because we didn't interrupt the meeting again. Not to the point where it had to be stopped, at least. No, though, because we, uh, got caught by you, and Superman, and…" He wrinkled his nose, thinking about the voices he'd heard and what he knew about the Justice League members. "…Martian Manhunter? It had to be him, he's the only other one who would have had the ability to sense us overhead."

_You remembered. Very good._ "Anything else?"

"Oh. It's a draw right now, isn't it?" He resumed his mental exercise, gnawing his lip until a large finger tapped his chin to get him to stop. "Sorry. Um…yes," he realized. "Yes, it _was_ the lesser of two evils, because KF and I got to go on an adventure. We'd already been in trouble together, and although we got into _more_ trouble, we had to work together to get there the second time. So…teamwork. We learned to work together as a team to achieve our goal of listening in on the meeting."

"So you consider it a success, even though his lack of stealth is what got you caught?"

"He got into a hurry," Robin admitted. "And he didn't pay attention when I tried to stop him. That's not good, but they're things that can be worked on. I could have set clearer ground rules, too; we just kind of went, we didn't really talk about it other than deciding that we were going through the air vents." He frowned. "Besides, even if he hadn't made noise, Superman and Martian Manhunter would have known we were there. You're the only one who realized we were there that might not have if we'd been quiet."

"What did you learn, then?"

"Better planning, and communication, are important. But…even though we didn't talk, some of it just came naturally. Like, I tapped his boot, and he knew to go right or left. We didn't talk about that. It's something you and I have done, but I don't know if he's ever done that with Flash. When I tapped him, though, that's the way he went. Also…well…I guess know your enemy? Even though we weren't really spying on _enemies_. I should have thought about that before we went. I should have remembered the abilities of each person we were listening to before we tried to. Then I would have known that we were going to be caught, and maybe we could have figured out a way to listen from outside of their alarm range."

_Why, you sneaky little…_ He loved it. _He acknowledged the weakness of his cohort without placing blame. He recognized his own faults, and tried to think of ways to avoid making the same errors next time. __And__ he's seeing how the smallest thing – a misplaced step, a forgotten fact – can bring an entire operation down._ _On top of that, even though they technically failed, he's talking like they're going to try again._ He paused. _…Somehow I don't think I should encourage that, but…_ "So you learned from the experience?"

"Yes," he said firmly. "I did." A smile bloomed. "And I made a friend. That's the best part."

_Yes. Yes, it is._ "You learned, but you still did wrong," he reminded him.

"…And now I have to pay it back," he bowed his head.

"How do you think you should do that?"

"…I dunno. I already ate dinner, so you can't really send me to bed without it…"

"I wouldn't take food from you as a punishment," he lectured lightly. "But…I think no patrol tonight."

"Aw, Batman! _Please_?"

He could _definitely_ feel his eyes now, drilling through both sets of lenses pleadingly. He didn't have to see them to know exactly what they looked like at this moment. The vision swayed him for a moment, but just the memory wasn't quite enough. "No. It's late, the meeting went longer than I anticipated. Partly," he stated pointedly, "because we had to stop to take care of an interruption."

"…Okay."

"The other part," he went on.

"There's _more_?"

"The other part," he repeated, "is your reward."

"…I'm not arguing, but…why exactly do I get a reward? Aren't I in trouble?"

"Yes. And no. You're in trouble for eavesdropping on people you should trust to tell you everything you need to know. But you exhibited intelligence, adaptability, and leadership in the pursuit of that admittedly dubious goal. So…you get to help me out with a big drug bust next weekend. If you want to," he added.

"Yes! Yes, please!" He jumped up and down in excitement. _A real mission that's not just a standard 'stop the mugger/rapist/murderer' patrol,_ his brain pinged. _A __real__ Batman job!_

"…I took the liberty of inviting Flash and Kid Flash along. Is that acceptable to you?" Arms latched around his neck as sixty pounds of ecstatic acrobat were thrown at him. _I'll take that as a yes,_ he thought, pulling him in with one hand_._

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Alfred happened upon them at that moment, a dust rag in his hand, and had to raise it to hide his mouth as a sappy grin took over. _Good lord, he even softens __Batman's__ edges,_ he gasped mentally. _Miraculous child. If he lets anything happen to you, I swear I'll…_ "…Sirs?" he greeted when he'd recovered somewhat. "Can I get you something?"

"Hello, Alfred," the cowled man breathed, releasing the child. "Go on," he instructed him, low.

"…You're going out without me, aren't you?"

"Yes. But tomorrow night we'll fly together, so long as you go upstairs with Alfred now, tell him about your evening while you have your snack, and then go to bed."

The boy reached up and shoved the lenses of his mask out of the way. Reading his look, the man did the same. Only when their eyes met did the child speak in a low whisper. "…Can I leave out the spying part? He'll be mad."

"He'll be madder if he finds out later."

"…It could be a secret?"

"How long do you think it will take him to learn it?"

"…Interrogation tactics conditioning. Even if I fail, I'll still learn something."

A chuckle slipped out unbidden, surprising all three of them. "I won't tell."

"Thanks." One of his secret smiles, meant for and given to only his surrogate father, slipped across his face for just a second before he turned and ran to the butler. "I'll go change, Alfred. Are there any cookies left?"

* * *

"…Did you have fun?" Flash asked needlessly when they were alone.

"Are you kidding? Rob's _so cool_…" A happy smile danced across his face. "Did you know he does the same thing with infomercials that we do? And he totally got a bag of cookies off of the top shelf without using a chair or anything. He didn't even get mad when I ate all but two of them! And all the other stuff he can do…"

"Wait. A bag of cookies on the top shelf? Were they Milanos?"

"…Yeeeah?"

He groaned. "Those were mine. I was thinking about them the entire meeting."

"Oh. Sorry," he said, flinching slightly as Barry moved towards him.

"Hey," the man said, pausing a few feet away when he caught the motion. "Relax. You know I would never-"

"I know," he looked away. "I just thought maybe the cookies…and the noise…and the spying…" _It's still hard not to just __react__ when you're so used to being hit for doing something wrong. Even if I haven't seen dad in months now. _He gave a sardonic internal laugh. _I guess Robin's got ghosts in his closet and I've got backhanding skeletons in mine. Find someone with a boggart in their wardrobe and we could open up a haunted house._ Comforting fingers rested on his shoulder, and he met his mentor's eyes. "I really do know, Uncle Barry," he promised, seeing the concern in his expression. "It's just hard."

"Yeah…But maybe having a friend will help with that. What do you think?"

"Yeah. I didn't tell him much, though, even though you said I could if I wanted to. Mostly because I knew he couldn't tell me anything, and…well, I didn't want him to feel guilty for knowing stuff about me but not being allowed to reveal anything about himself."

"That was thoughtful of you," Flash commented.

"…I _really_ don't want to scare him off the way I do everyone else. Even when we were getting in trouble, I…I was having so much fun. I haven't had that much fun in…well…a long time." He gave his uncle a questing look. "When do you think I'll get to see him again? It's not going to be too long, is it?"

"Is a week too long?"

"A week?" _A week. That's a long time, but it's a lot sooner than I thought it would be, too._

"Batman asked us to come to Gotham next weekend for a drug bust."

"…Do Rob and I get to help?!"

"Yup. At least, that's what I think the plan is. Besides, after the antics you two managed tonight, I don't see him letting you stay in the Batcave by yourselves."

"…I wish you'd just tell me who they are. I mean, Batman wouldn't have to know, I could just tell Rob and we'd keep it a secret."

"And I wish I could tell you, Kid, but I'm kind of used to having my head attached to my body."

"Yeah, it'd be hard to eat otherwise."

"Exactly." Figuring Batman and Robin had had plenty of time to clear out, he nodded towards the exit. "Let's head home, huh? See if anything's going on?" They could have just run there, but after the incident in the air vents he thought it might be a good idea to reinforce the importance of being able to function at a normal speed. That was, he knew, the toughest part of being able to go as fast as they could. _He's pretty quiet when he's zipping along, but we've got to work on the 'normal' stuff, too,_ he chastised himself. _I've been so caught up showing him all the fun things you can do with super speed that I forgot to do much with him on the other side._

"Sure."

"Oh, and _don't_ tell your aunt where we're going next weekend. Iget a week of the silent treatment when _I_ go to Gotham, so I can just imagine what she'd do if she knew I was taking you there too."

"…Is it as bad as everyone says?"

"Worse, in some ways. All the really crazy people seem to gravitate towards Gotham. It's like there's something in the water."

He didn't say anything to that, merely mulled it over as they walked down the hall. Just before they stepped into the tube, he broached a question, bringing them both to a halt. "Sooo…you're not mad about tonight?"

"What about tonight?" he asked, puzzled. "Oh! Right." _Discipline. This stuff's hard to remember sometimes, especially when he's done the kind of things I probably would have in his place._ "Um…okay, well, what'd you do wrong?"

"Spied on other people."

"Right. And are you going to do it again?"

"Only if I have to. Like, for a mission," he clarified.

"That's good. So, for punishment…ah…well, you know what, Batman was involved. That's scary enough, and you know it's wrong and have already said you won't do it again, so…anything else? We'll count the noise as part of that, by the way."

"I ate your cookies. Well, all but two of them."

"Food is sovereign property, you know that. Grounded for two weeks."

"_What?!"_

"I'm joking," Flash laughed. "We'll swing by the store before we start patrol. Your real punishment is that you have to sit there and watch me eat them. All of them."

The boy groaned. _Watching Robin eat two was torture,_ he remembered. _Well…at least Uncle Barry will eat __fast__, instead of picking at them like a bird._ With that small consolation, he stepped forward and was whisked away from Mount Justice.


	7. Chapter 7

Robin was allowed to patrol the night following the Justice League meeting, and his presence proved highly useful when they interrupted the robbery of an assayer's office. The men inside were more formidable fighters than Batman had anticipated, and three of them managed to hold him up long enough for the fourth to get to the back door with a cart containing eight gold bars. Fortunately that was where he had stationed his partner, thinking to keep him out of the main fray. The acrobat was perched on a small overhang above the exit, and dropped easily onto the thief as he stopped to wrestle with his ill-gotten prize. Knocking the man out with a new technique he'd learned the week before, he was just securing the last zip tie when his mentor appeared, glanced about, and gave him a short nod of approval.

"He couldn't get the cart through the door," the boy grinned. "It's too wide for the frame."

"Did you use the nerve pinch I showed you?"

"Yup. He went straight down."

Bending to check the criminal, he verified what the boy had said. "Good," he said, straightening. His voice was gruff, but he was swelling with pride. _His first real takedown on his own,_ he mused. On every patrol before now they had fought back-to-back, or at least in places where he could see the child at all times. Tonight, though, they'd split up, and he'd handled the situation expertly when given the opportunity. "We'll stay until the police arrive, then return to the cave," he announced. "It's getting late."

"The police?" He couldn't manage to mask his excitement entirely; so far they'd always left before the authorities got to the crime scene. He'd asked why one night, and had been told that there was no reason to let the entire world know about Robin until it was absolutely necessary. Secretly, though, he suspected that Batman was waiting until he reached a particular level of proficiency, and the fact that they were staying to turn in someone _he'd_ nabbed suggested to him that he was correct.

There was a cold wind blowing at ground level that had been blocked by the building when he'd been crouched up above, and he shivered suddenly in it. Seeing the involuntary motion, Batman gestured him over, holding his cape open for him to huddle beneath. He pressed himself against the man's side, absorbing heat as the loose fabric was wrapped around his shoulders. "Thanks," he yawned, relaxing as he warmed. He was nearly asleep, his head tucked neatly beneath his mentor's elbow, when the police arrived.

"Commissioner," he heard rumble overhead. He tried to turn to see the person Batman was speaking to, but the arm across his back held him in place. Getting the sense that he was being restrained for a reason, he didn't struggle, instead going still and listening to the conversation. "A heist at this level doesn't seem like the kind of thing that would attract you."

"Normally it wouldn't," a new voice that Robin vaguely recognized from television answered. "I happened to be out on a ride along tonight when the call came in. Pure coincidence. So," he went on, "another four men on their way to jail courtesy of Batman."

"No. Three."

"…I'm sorry?"

"Only the three inside are mine. The one out here, who was about to escape with the gold, is courtesy of my partner."

"…Your _what_?"

"My partner," he repeated. "Robin. Meet Commissioner Gordon."

The pressure over his shoulders lifted, and the acrobat turned. "Hello," he greeted gaily. "I'm Robin. It's nice to meet you, Commissioner Gordon

"I…hello," the clearly shocked public servant replied. "…Batman, surely this is a joke? I mean, I'd heard rumors, but really…" His wide eyes never left the small masked face peeking up at him from the edges of the cape. "…This is extreme, even for you."

"Extreme?" was breathed in a borderline lethal tone.

"Well…he's a _child_. How old are you, Robin, eight?"

"Nine," the boy answered promptly.

"Nine," Gordon shook his head. "_Nine,_ Batman."

"I'm aware of his age."

"Then how can you allow-"

"He captured a man who might have gotten away with three million dollars worth of bullion tonight. He did so completely unassisted, utilizing his training, the terrain, and the element of surprise. If he can do that at nine, Commissioner, what will he be capable of at nineteen? At twenty-nine? I think it would be in your interest to make sure that such a person is on your side."

"…The heir apparent, then?" he asked unhappily, forced to acknowledge the truth of the other man's words.

"As you see."

"It's madness," he muttered. The years had taught him that it wasn't worth trying to argue with him, though, so he didn't bother. "All right…Robin…ah…good job."

"Thanks!" came back, along with a happy smile. Looking closely in the dark, the Commissioner would have sworn the boy was rising up and down on his toes, almost hopping in place, as if he couldn't stand still from the excitement. He hadn't believed the scuttlebutt about an eye-poppingly dressed youth following the somber Batman about until he'd just seen it, and even still he questioned his vision. _How does he manage stakeouts?_ he found himself wondering as the duo turned and began to walk away without another word. _And where did he even __get__ a child?_ _ What parent would hand their baby over to such a figure? Unless…well, I suppose it isn't impossible that he has biological offspring. Still, though, it's insane. Sooner or later that boy's going to get hurt, or worse, and my guess is that when it happens we're going to have corpses instead of criminals to process. He had him wrapped up in his cape to keep him out of the wind, for Christ's sake. We've found him with hypothermia victims he wasn't that generous with. No…that little one is more son than partner. Apparently vigilantism is now a family business, at least in Gotham. _Groaning at the thought, he called over the nearest patrolman and requested a lift back to headquarters. _I'll finish the ride along tomorrow,_ he excused himself. _Right now, I need a stiff drink_.

Robin held his question until they were ensconced in the Batmobile and on their way home. "…Did you mean what you said?" he queried.

"Mm?"

"About when I'm older. Do you think…I mean, you sounded like you think I'll be really good then, when I'm grown up. Did you mean that?"

"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't believe it. Assuming you still want to do this when you get to those ages, of course. You may not."

"Of course I will!" he exclaimed a little indignantly.

"Good." _Because you're going to be fantastic._

Buzzing as he was over being introduced to the Commissioner, it was difficult to convince him to go to bed once they were home. First, of course, Alfred had to be told, and then the request to go out and share the news with Gobblehead had to be turned down. Finally Bruce just picked him up bodily, threw him over his shoulder, and marched up the stairs, grinning at the delighted giggles the action caused. "Go to sleep, kiddo," he ordered as he dropped him onto the bed and headed for the door.

"Bruce?"

"Hmm?"

"…Why'd you really wait until tonight to let the police know about Robin?" Even though he thought he already knew the answer, he wanted to hear it from the man himself.

"I already told you, chum, it was safer to wait."

"You said there was no reason to tell until it was 'absolutely necessary,'" Dick quoted, sitting up and giving him a serious look. "But…it wasn't necessary tonight. So how come you didn't keep waiting?"

"Would you have preferred that I waited?" he asked, stepping back into the room and sitting on the edge of the mattress.

"No," the boy shook his head. "It's just…well, I know the JLA already knew about me before last night, or at least Superman and Flash did. And a few weeks ago you told Leslie, and now you've told the Commissioner. They're all our allies, though, right?"

"Yes."

"So shouldn't you have told them all at once, more or less?"

Bruce sighed. _Damn it, why does it seem like you just see through everything I try to hide from you? How do you read me like that? I'm lucky you haven't managed to guess what I got you for Christmas just by looking at me. _"Dick…look, I've had you read a fair number of criminal profiles, right?"

"Yeah. The Joker, and Two-Face, and lots of others," he nodded.

"So you know the kind of things they've done."

"Uh-huh. They're not very nice."

"No. They aren't. Other than that, can you think of anything else that links together all of the files I've given you to study?"

He traced the stitching of his quilt as he concentrated, a bevy of possibilities flying through his mind and being just as quickly discarded. "…You've caught all of them at least once. They've all gone to jail because of Batman."

"Right. So," he shifted, a bit uncomfortably. _I don't want what I'm about to say to scare him, but he did ask. And he does need to know, so that he can be on his guard._ "What do you think their first thought will be when they find out that Batman has a partner? A _young_ partner, at that?"

"…Easy target," he realized. He met Bruce's eyes. "They'll think I'm an easy target, a good way to get to you. They could use me as bait to lure you into a trap."

"Or worse," the billionaire explained. "Several of them wouldn't hesitate to just kill you, specifically because they would want to see what happened to Batman in that instance. I've never worked with anyone before, and most of them know that. The fact that you're a child will automatically intimate certain things, certain assumptions, and they will exploit those as much as they can." He took a deep breath. "I don't want Robin's existence to become common knowledge to people like them until it has to, because I want to make sure that you are as ready as you possibly can be to face them when they do go after you. There's been talk on the streets, though, and unfortunately rumors about Batman tend to spread fast in the underworld. The word is getting out, and before long it's bound to reach one or more of the criminals you've studied. That can't be avoided."

"But that doesn't explain why you told the Commissioner about Robin," the child pointed out.

"I had two reasons for that. The first goes back to what I was just saying; you're becoming a known figure, slowly but surely, and there's nothing that can be done to stop it from happening. Telling the police about Robin's existence, and his ties to Batman, may ensure that they offer you the help you need in a bad situation, especially if I'm not able to intercede for some reason. If Gotham's criminals are familiar with you, we need to make sure that Gotham's police are as well."

"…That makes sense."

"Good. The second reason is a bit more personal. I know you've been wondering why we always leave before the police arrive. Batman does that a lot of the time anyway, you should know; it hasn't just been since he's had Robin at his side. I also know that you've been wanting to meet the Commissioner since I first mentioned him and explained the importance of his role to our night work; remember, his willingness to mostly leave us to our operations is part of the reason we're able to function at the level we do. Commissioners in other cities have proven far less welcoming to people like us in the past, sometimes turning into outright enemies. Batman and Robin are lucky that Jim Gordon is Gotham's Commissioner, and that he has been as amenable as he is to our existence. Having his support, or at least not having him working against us, makes our jobs much, much easier."

"You told me that already," he nodded.

"And you remembered," Bruce smiled. _Of course you remembered._ "Anyway, I knew you really wanted to meet him as Robin. I was going to wait a little longer, but…you did very well tonight. I guess even Batman thought you deserved a little reward for that."

"Thanks," Dick glowed. "But why'd you keep me from turning around and saying hi at first, then?"

"Oh, that." He winked. "Dramatic effect."

"You like keeping him on his toes? Why?"

"You know why."

"…Because it's fun?" he grinned.

"Exactly." Getting up slowly, he returned to the door. "Now, go to sleep. Maybe tomorrow we can go ice skating."

"Yeah!" The activity had quickly become one of his favorites, and Bruce couldn't object to seeing him have so much fun when he was doing something so close to training. "I'll go right to sleep, I promise!"

"Good." The billionaire watched as he snuggled down into the blankets and squeezed his eyes tightly shut. "Sleep tight, kiddo."

"Night, Bruce."

Walking down the hall to his own room, he pondered the events of the evening. _I miscalculated the strength of the thieves, and it could have turned out badly as a result. He turned it around, though, and took out the one that was getting away while I was still occupied inside. What was said to the Commissioner tonight was no exaggeration; he's only going to become more skilled, and more impressive, as time goes by. The secret is making sure he gets the time he needs to develop before the wrong person gets their hands on him. _

He grimaced at that, suddenly glad that Flash was coming along on the bust the next weekend. _A second pair of experienced eyes won't hurt anything, especially on Robin's first big case. _Climbing into bed, he lay back and tried to banish the worry that had been clawing in the back of his head since he'd first proposed the upcoming mission. He latched onto the sight that had greeted him as he'd stepped out of the assayer's a couple hours before; Robin, bent determinedly over an unconscious and bound figure that was easily three times his weight, concentrating on his task but not to the extent that he didn't know Batman was approaching. _He's ready,_ he assured himself. _Between tonight and the little stunt he pulled with Kid Flash, he's shown he can adapt and do what needs to be done. And we still have another week to practice. I think we'll focus on evasion, just in case…_ Finally, with a set plan and the fresh memory of his son's first real criminal apprehension to comfort him, he managed to fall asleep, a proud little smile gracing his lips.


	8. Chapter 8

The following Saturday couldn't come fast enough for Dick, so naturally time seemed to slow to a crawl. School was mildly less unpleasant with Ricky Van Cleave suspended and most of the other children too taken up with the approaching holiday vacation to pay any attention to him, but plenty of insults still made their way to his ears. He felt like a liar every afternoon when he responded to Alfred's query about his day with a simple 'fine.' It wasn't fine, it just wasn't as miserable as it could have been. He knew that would change, though, when his bully's punishment was up in January. _Then there'll be heck to pay_, he sighed to himself.

Friday was the last day of school before the break, so he was pleasantly surprised when he came down for breakfast and Alfred informed him that he wouldn't be going. "How come?" he inquired, his appetite for the pancakes in front of him growing as he realized he wouldn't hear the words 'penniless circus freak' or 'dirty Gyp' for more than two weeks.

"Master Wayne has arranged for you to be tested for admission to Gotham Academy. As soon as you've eaten, we'll be leaving. Your appointment isn't until ten o'clock, but the school is located on the other side of town, so it will take us some time to get there."

"…Gotham Academy?" He thought Bruce had mentioned it once before, but he couldn't remember for certain. "What…I mean…is it nice?"

"I've never heard anything negative about it, young sir," the butler replied. "My understanding is that it boasts a well thought of curriculum in maths and sciences. Their math team took first at the state level last year, I believe."

"They have a math team?" his head shot up.

"Yes, Master Dick. Does that sound like something you might be interested in?"

"I dunno," he shrugged. "I mean, I have to get in first."

"Very true," the Englishman nodded. "The entrance exams are rigorous," he added. "I tell you that not to scare you, but merely so that you are forewarned."

"I know. Thanks." As quickly as it had come, his appetite was gone. He pushed his plate away with only half the food missing. _I wish I'd known a couple of days ago so I could have studied. Without knowing what's going to be on the test, though, what good would it have done?_

"…Finished already?" Alfred frowned. _I shouldn't have mentioned the testing. I ought to have just told him we were going to tour the establishment, _he berated himself. _He's been eating so little in the mornings as it is of late… Master Wayne seemed quite certain that this new school will be a good fit for him. I hope the lack of nourishment doesn't negatively affect his performance on the exams._

"Yes, thank you. It was good, I'm just…not hungry."

Coming around the table as if to take his plate, he knelt beside the boy's chair. "There's no shame in being nervous, young sir," he said quietly, resting a hand on his knee. "I'm sure you'll do very well."

"What if I don't, Alfred? Bruce wouldn't have me taking the tests unless this where he wants me to go, right?"

"…That is correct, yes."

"So what if I don't do good enough?"

"Well enough," he corrected gently.

"_See?!_ I can't even get that right." He shook his head. "I just…I just don't want to make him regret it, that's all."

"Regret it?" the butler asked, taken aback. "Regret what?"

"…Me."

_Where on earth is this coming from? _"Come now, you don't truly believe that such a thing could come to pass, do you?"

"I…I've just caused so much trouble lately, with Gobblehead, and school, and the JLA meeting, and now…if I don't get into the Academy…I just want to make him proud, Alfred. And you, too."

As curious as he was about the 'trouble' that had apparently occurred at the League meeting – somehow both of his charges had managed to keep that bit of information secret from him for nearly a week – he knew better than to inquire about it when the boy was already distraught. "Child, he is _immensely_ proud of you," he insisted. "As am I. You must know that."

"I guess I do. I…I'm afraid I'll do something to make it go away, though."

"You won't."

"But what if-"

"_You won't,_" he repeated sharply. "You will occasionally make mistakes and misjudgments, and be involved in things outside of your control, yes; but we all must face such problems from time to time. The way you have stood up to the events in your life thus far tells me that you are not likely to ever do something so heinous as to make him or I no longer proud of you. Such crimes are not in your nature," he assured him. "You are going to do go in there this morning and do your best. If your best does not happen to be enough for Gotham Academy, then they will have lost the opportunity to number a wonderful young man amongst their students. If they are so foolish as to not take you, we will simply find another solution. Regardless of what happens, however, it will all work out in the end, and there will be no shame involved. Can you keep that in mind, for me?"

There, finally, a little lifting of lips. "I'll try, Alfred," Dick promised. Slipping down off of his chair, he gave the butler a brief hug. "Thank you."

"Of course, young sir. Now, if you're very sure you've finished with your breakfast, please go and put your shoes on. We need to leave soon."

"…Do you know what the test is on? Maybe I can take a book and study on the way."

He almost laughed at his eagerness. _Pleasing others never seems to grow stale for him,_ he delighted. "I don't know the specifics, Master Dick, but I assume it will focus on the basic academic fields."

"…I'll take my math book," he decided. "Since it's a math school, maybe there'll be lots of questions about that. There's some stuff in the last couple chapters I've only seen a couple of times, I can read those…"

_Thank god I didn't tell him that Gotham Academy starts at the sixth grade,_ Alfred thought as the boy ran upstairs to retrieve the text. _That might have sent him into a full panic attack._ Scooping up the plate from the table, he sighed. _The idea of Master Wayne or myself not being proud of him…he does get the strangest notions sometimes, I swear…but, I suppose these occasional bouts of insecurity are the price we pay for him being such a sensitive, self-reflecting child. He simply must do well on the exams today; I fear he may be very hard on himself if he's not accepted._

The drive across town was silent except for the frantic scribbling Dick was doing as he worked over problem after problem. As they pulled up in front of the school, Alfred heard him sigh deeply. "Something wrong, young sir?"

"I wish this book had an answer key. I don't even know if I did any of those problems right."

"I'm sure you did," he soothed. "You have quite a head for numbers."

"…Is this it?" His voice was low, carrying a nervousness that didn't quite pass into fear.

"Yes. We need to go to the front office and check in, we're due in ten minutes."

Once they got out of the car, the rest of the morning passed in a blur. Alfred had barely finished signing him in when a lady came to take him into a room holding several computer stations and nothing else. A stack of blank paper and several pencils sat beside one terminal, and it was there that she asked him to sit. After issuing a few basic instructions and wishing him luck she retreated to a corner and sat wordlessly, monitoring him as he worked his way through exam modules ranging from math to history and including what he was pretty sure was a standard IQ test.

At the very end, just as his eyes were becoming grainy and sore from staring at the screen, there were several questions that he recognized as having been asked by the bevy of psychologists he'd met with during the awful weeks between his last night with the circus and his first with Bruce. He paused, shaking slightly, when he realized why they seemed so familiar, but quickly pulled himself back under control. _I have to finish. I have to do as well as I can on this, for Bruce. They probably won't let me in if I don't answer all the questions. _Unconsciously giving a grimace that wasn't too far off from Batman's normal expression, he pressed on.

Then, suddenly, it was over. The monitor beeped at him, a message popping up to thank him for completing the exams, and the woman in the corner stood and asked him to follow her. They returned to the office lobby, where Alfred rose to greet him. Dick had rarely been so relieved to see a familiar face.

"Well, young sir," the butler inquired once they were on their way home. "How do you feel it went?"

"I don't know," he shook his head and stared out the window. "There were parts that I thought were easy, and other parts that were hard. Some of the math stuff they asked…I'd never even seen it before. It looked like it might have been calculus. I did my best on them, but I don't think I got many of those hard questions right. They just kept getting tougher and tougher…"

Alfred raised an eyebrow, impressed. He had spent much of the past four hours in conferences with various administrators, among them the admissions counselor, who had given him a brief explanation of how their testing worked. According to her, the program started out with a few basic questions appropriate for the grade the child was attempting to enter. The questions subsequently grew more or less difficult depending on the percentage and level of previous problems answered correctly. _For him to have started the exam at the sixth-grade level and reached calculus questions by the end, he must have done extraordinarily well on the math portion,_ he realized. "I'm sure you did better than you think," he assured.

"…I hope so. Some of them were timed essay questions. I don't know, Alfred. I feel like I messed up a lot."

"Well, we'll know in a few weeks for sure. It's not worth worrying too much about it; there's nothing that can be done to change things at this point."

"I know," he sighed. The next time Alfred glanced at him in the rearview mirror, he was sleeping fitfully, and didn't wake until they arrived back at the manor. "…I'm gonna go read to Gobblehead some more, okay?" he asked as they went inside.

"Aren't you hungry, Master Dick? You haven't eaten since this morning."

The boy merely shrugged. "I can wait for dinner. Bruce will be home on time tonight, won't he?"

"I haven't heard anything to the contrary, so I believe so." _I really ought to insist that he eat something,_ he fretted. _But I hate to force him._ Deciding that the best thing to do was to make something he knew his younger charge wouldn't be able to resist, he retreated into the kitchen and got to work on a small feast. Quickly falling into a cooking trance, he didn't notice how much time had passed until Bruce's voice met his ears.

"Alfred? Where's Dick?"

He jumped slightly, his attention having been fully riveted on a pair of slowly browning lamb chops. "Oh, my apologies, sir. I was a million miles away. I believe the young master is outside in the turkey shed again."

"…Are those lamb chops? And," he glanced at the items being kept warm nearby, "crab-stuffed mushrooms?"

"…Yes, Master Wayne. They are. He hasn't eaten everything I've put in front of him since last Sunday evening. I'm determined to reverse that trend before it becomes a habit."

He winced. "So…how was it?"

"The meetings I had were very promising. And from what he told me, it sounds as if Master Dick did very well indeed on the math portion of the exams. He didn't speak about the other sections besides saying that he felt he 'messed up a lot'." He paused. "He indicated to me this morning that he fears you will regret taking him in if he doesn't get into this school."

"What?!" he exclaimed, stunned. "Why…why would he think that?"

"He stated that he's made a great deal of trouble of late, and that he wants to make you proud."

"Did you tell him that I _am_?"

"Of course I did, sir. And I believe it worked for a little while. Once he took that test, though, he seemed quite unhappy again."

"…You said he's with Gobblehead?" _Is it Saturday yet? I'd like to see him with a human friend again._

"Yes, sir."

"Thanks, Alfred." He walked quickly outside, stopping just before the door to the turkey's abode in order to listen. No familiar voice greeted him with lines of Dickens, however, and he frowned. Entering, he found only the bird, walking in a circle and cooing occasionally. "Hey, Gobblehead," he greeted quietly. "Has Dick been out here with you today?" The creature turned its back on him and strutted to a bale of straw, nudging something on top of it with its beak. Taking a step closer, Bruce discovered the copy of _A Christmas Carol_ that the boy had been reading aloud a week before. The marker was further along in the story than it had been the last time he'd seen it, but he got the sense that no progress had been made today. "Thanks," he sighed, turning and heading back outside.

_Don't panic yet,_ he advised himself as he re-entered the manor. _He may just be in his room. _Upstairs, he found his door closed, and knocked gently. "…Kiddo?" he ventured, slipping inside when there was no answer.

"Hey," came a quiet greeting from the figure sprawled across the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

"Hey, chum. Something interesting up there?" he asked.

"Dragons," was muttered back.

"Dragons? Wow, all I ever see on my ceiling are amoebas," he tried to joke as he moved to lay down beside him. "Show me?"

"See that v-shape there?"

"Yeah?"

"That's one of them's beard. You kind of have to fake it, but if you look hard enough you can see him all curled up like he's on top of his treasure."

He had to really squint, but after a few false starts he thought he could make out what the boy was talking about. "Oh, okay. I see it now. What about the other one? You said dragon_s_."

"He's over here," Dick pointed at his side of the ceiling. "He's a lot smaller, but he's flying. See the wings? That long, skinny bit is his tail. I like to pretend that maybe he's so much smaller because he's a long ways a way, and he's coming to fight for the sleeping one's gold."

"Sure. That seems like a good reason for him to be smaller." He shifted onto his side and observed the sadness in his eyes. "Alfred said you had kind of a rough day."

"It was okay, I guess. Just a test. A _four hour long_ test," he added.

"He's making you pork chops. And crab-stuffed mushrooms." _We both know what those foods mean,_ he didn't have to say out loud.

"…Okay, it sucked. The whole week sucked."

"What's going on?"

"People are still making fun of me, even with Ricky gone. A couple of my teachers have been really distant this week, too, like they're angry that I'm leaving. And then today…well…I don't think I did very well on those tests, Bruce. I don't think they're going to want me, and then…" he trailed off, not wanting to speak the words.

"And then what, Dick? And then maybe _I_ won't want you?"

His face froze. "…How did you know I was thinking that?" he whispered. "I mean, Alfred told me I was wrong, and that you're proud of me and all of that, and I _know_ that, but…" He shook his head. "I've just messed up so much lately."

"Hardly."

"Huh? But…Gobblehead, and the fight, and the spying on the meeting...why _would_ you want me, especially if I can't even get into a decent school?"

He reached out and turned his head, forcing him to look at him. "Let's really examine these 'problems' you've been involved in lately. You ran away with Gobblehead because you were protecting a friend. I can't be mad at you for that. The fight with that little Van Cleave jerk was _not_ your fault, and the things he and the others have been saying are _not_ true. You tried to turn the other cheek, and when it passed over the acceptable line, you stood up for yourself, as I would expect you to do. As for spying on the meeting, we talked about that already. You served your punishment, and you're getting a reward for it tomorrow, remember? I'm not disappointed in you in the least for _any_ of those things, kiddo. As for the Academy, I will be utterly shocked if they don't take you. And you know something else?"

"…What?"

"If they turn you down, they're complete idiots."

"So…so you don't regret taking me in?"

Bruce steeled himself, what he wanted to tell him catching in his throat. _He needs to hear it, though,_ he pressed himself. "Dick," he said slowly, "taking you in was the best thing I've ever done. I would _never_ take that decision back. I'm a better person for having you in my life, and Batman's a better person for having Robin."

He chewed his lip for a second, then burst into tears and threw himself at him. "I'm sorry," he whined. "I don't know why I'm being such a baby…I know you feel that way, I just…I just…"

"Hush," he rubbed his back. "It's okay. Everything's kind of changing again right now, just when we'd gotten settled, huh?"

"Uh-huh…"

"Bullies at school, and now _changing_ schools, and Kid Flash, and getting to go on real missions with Batman…"

"Yeah…"

"…Maybe the first Christmas without your parents, too?"

His crying strengthened. "Uh…uh-huuuuh…"

_Yeah, I thought that might be part of it,_ Bruce sighed. "I'm going to tell you a secret, okay?"

"Okay…"

"Every once in a while, every so often in most people's lives, there are periods of relative static, when not a whole lot changes abruptly. Kind of the way it has been since you came to live here. Some things changed, sure, but they mostly happened slowly, and you could sort of predict what was going to happen. Then, a lot of things change very quickly. Sometimes it's because of one big event, like when you lost your parents, and sometimes it's just because several smaller things come to a head at once, like now. The point is, your body reacts to it the same way, whether it's one big event or a lot of little ones.

"The last time you dealt with a dynamic period in your life – the last time your body was under this kind of stress - it was because of a terrible tragedy. Now, your brain is imprinted with that, and that means that, for a little while at least, you're going to associate a lot of rapid changes with that event. And I know that's hard, kiddo, trust me, I remember, but it _will_ get easier. It really will. The first few times it seems like everything's changing and out of control, it's going to be just as confusing as it was right after you lost them, because so far as your brain is concerned it's happening all over again. But it won't be like that forever. One day you'll realize you're in the middle of big changes, and it won't make you feel insecure, at least not like this. Okay?"

"O-okay."

"It's all going to be okay."

"Okay." He pulled away slightly, wiping his eyes. "Hey, Bruce? Can I tell _you_ a secret?"

"Of course."

"…You're really good at this."

The billionaire's lip trembled, his eyes smarting as those five honest words were spoken by the only person he could possibly have believed them from. "…Thanks, Dick," he managed.

"You're welcome," he answered, smiling as he sat up. "…Did Alfred really make pork chops?"

"Yes. And crab-stuffed mushrooms."

"…I'm really hungry all of a sudden."

"Yeah? Well, let's go, then. I'll bet dinner's almost ready." He paused. "Do you want to check out where we're going to be working with Flash and Kid Flash tomorrow? We won't be able to go inside, but we can take a look at it from nearby while we're out on patrol tonight."

"That would be cool," he nodded, jumping off of the bed. "Ooh, I can smell our food…"

"I'm coming, I'm coming." As he approached the child bouncing by the door, a small hand was thrust out, hoping for his larger one to engulf it securely. The man obliged, swallowing as he swung their arms back and forth a few times. "Hey, kiddo? Do me a favor?"

"Sure, Bruce. What is it?"

"Clean your plate tonight, okay?" _I think you've lost weight,_ he mused. _Your cheeks look a little hollow in this light. I hadn't noticed before…_

He craned his neck and gave him a quizzical look. "Alfred made _pork chops_. I once ate my mom's pork chops with a stomach flu, even though I knew I was going to throw them right back up." He paused, and Bruce could only hope that mentioning his mother hadn't thrown him back into his sad state. "Boy, was she angry that I didn't tell her I was sick," he laughed after a second. "And Alfred's pork chops are even better than hers, so…I think I can promise to clean my plate tonight."

"Good," he smiled. _There's my happy boy,_ he applauded. _Now to just get everything settled so that he sticks around…_


	9. Chapter 9

By eight thirty the following night, Batman and Robin were both in the cave, fully costumed and ready. The cowl was bowed over a computer, reviewing everything one last time in the hopes that doing so would prevent another near-mishap like the assayer's heist. He could sense the boy behind him, his excitement making the air hum. He hadn't been able to sit still all day, dragging Bruce outside for a snowball fight before building an elaborate igloo large enough for both himself and Gobblehead to sit inside of. Now he tumbled back and forth across the floor, transitioning from handsprings to aerial flips to rolls and sweeps effortlessly as he tried not to ask what time it was.

"Robin."

He stopped, standing on his hands. "Yes, Batman?"

"You should come look at this." A moment later he appeared at his side, standing on his toes to view the screen. "Here," the man sighed, pushing his chair back just enough for the skinny little acrobat to climb over the arm and onto his knee. "Can you see now?"

"Yup. That's the warehouse, right?"

"Correct." They'd studied it from afar the evening before, but he wanted to make sure his partner had an idea of the internal layout before they went in. "As you can see, there's a channel here in the middle for small boats to pull in and dock. This is where they'll offload the drugs. Here," he moved his finger to indicate large garage doors in the next room, "is where they'll place the shipment into vehicles."

"How many vehicles?"

"…Why does that matter?" _I__ know why that number is important, but I want to hear why you think it is_.

"If there's more than one car, that means more than one driver will have to be there," Robin craned his neck to look up at him. "So that's more guys we have to take out. Plus, if more than one gets out of the warehouse before we can stop it, we'll have to split up to chase them."

"…Correct," he nodded. "My information suggests that there will be a total of three trucks picking up stock tonight. We also have to worry about the boat."

"Why? Once it's unloaded, why does it matter?"

"The perpetrators could still get away in it."

"…Oh. That's true. So…they're moving the heroin from here," he indicated the boat launch, "to here," he pointed to the back room. "So where do we come in?"

"Having seen the outside of the building, what would you do?"

"Well…" He pictured the warehouse as he'd seen it night before. "There are those roof vents we saw. We could use those, and drop down into the rafters, then onto the baddies. The dock area is all one big space, right? Only the warehouse section has a second floor?"

"Right."

"So we could do that."

"I agree. That takes care of you and I." He paused. "Where would you position Flash and Kid Flash?

"Hmm…the roof is corrugated steel, and it's slanted. It's not going to be easy for them to get up, what with the ice and all, and I don't think they would want to jump from that high anyway. So…maybe we could have them stationed outside here and here," he leaned forward to finger two man-doors that let into the docking room from opposite sides. "If we're all on the same radio frequency, it will be easy to let them know when to come in. Then we can hit them from three different angles at the same time."

_My brilliant little strategist,_ Batman crowed to himself. He hadn't closed the lenses on his mask yet, and when the boy turned to look for his approval he knew he could see the satisfaction in his eyes. "We'll confer with the others," he said evenly. "…But it looks like a sound plan to me," he added, just to see him smile.

"I'm excited," Robin confessed, bouncing. "I can't sit still."

"I hadn't noticed," he replied drily.

The child blushed prettily. "…Sorry."

"Go practice on the bars until they get here," he ordered, lifting him back down to the floor. _That should keep you occupied for the last ten minutes._

"Okay!" he agreed, rushing into the back corner where several bars and rings had been installed at various heights especially to meet his training needs. It was the best practice space that could be managed for him in the cave, but Batman regretted that the space wasn't high enough to accommodate a trapeze. _Not that I could have fathomed wanting room for one when Alfred and I designed the place, but still,_ he thought, watching him for a moment before turning back to the screen. _It would have been a nice thing to be able to offer him._

A few minutes later they both heard Flash being announced. Robin immediately halted his routine and practically ran to the Zeta tube, flipping down the lenses of his mask as he went. His mentor barely moved a muscle, content to continue reviewing the facts and wait for the others to come to him. "Hi!" he said shrilly as he slid to a stop in front of the speedsters. "Hi, Flash. Hi, KF!"

"Hiya Rob!" the redhead beamed back. The week since they'd last seen each other had been the easiest one he'd had since moving to Central City for the simple reason that every time someone teased him or shoved him into something he'd just taken a deep breath and remembered the fun he'd had the weekend before. A sense of pride had begun to grow in him, too, each time he reminded himself that he was _freaking Kid Flash_ and the people making jokes at his expense were just boring old civilians who could never understand the feeling of working and training with a legitimate hero. _Rob understands all of that, though,_ he'd thought fiercely when loneliness threatened to overwhelm him. _He gets it. He knows. And he doesn't seem to mind how I am._

"Hey, Robin," Flash smiled, too. Wally had actually seemed content since the night of the JLA meeting, and he didn't have to think very hard to figure out what had caused it. He was a scientist, after all, and every innate sense for chemistry that he possessed had screamed from the first moment that Robin and Kid Flash went together as naturally as oxygen and hydrogen. "Where's the big, bad Bat?"

"At the computer. He's probably still staring at the warehouse map and waiting for us to come to him. We've got a plan all worked out," he buzzed. "Come see! He wants to know what you guys think of it."

"Are you sure he wasn't just saying that?" Flash joked as they followed him to where the cowl was, indeed, facing a building layout. "Second opinions aren't really his thing, unless he's the one giving them."

"This is an important mission," rumbled from the chair. "I want to ensure that we're all on the same page before we start." He moved to the side so that the new arrivals could see the screen. "The drugs will come in here, via boat, and be loaded into three trucks here, closer to the street. We want to let them get about halfway done with the transfer before attacking; they'll most likely be expecting interference either right at the beginning or after the vehicles are loaded, not in the middle. Robin and I will come in through the roof and drop on top of them; Flash, you and Kid Flash will come in at ground level, one from each side." He paused. "…Are you comfortable splitting up like that?"

"How do you feel about it?" the red-clad man asked his protégé. He wasn't ecstatic about it himself, but he knew that if anything went awry the boy could make his way home in less than ten minutes. _Besides,_ he thought as he examined the map, _I don't see any better way to approach this._

"I can do it," he said, sounding a little nervous but determined. _Uncle Barry will just be right there on the other side of the building. If something goes wrong he'll be there instantly. Besides, he would have just said no if he thought it was too dangerous. Well, I think he would have, at least; it is __Batman__ he'd be saying no to, after all._ "No problem."

"Then it's fine with me," he nodded. "Does it still look as easy as you thought it would be?"

"Yes. I've received no new information to make me think otherwise. However," he added, "we need to establish a contingency plan." Batman addressed the boys directly. "If something goes wrong," he said sternly, "if either one of us tells you to get out, or if you try to raise us on the radio and you don't get an answer, you _get out_, and you come back here to the cave. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Batman," Robin nodded gravely, picking up on the unusual thread of fear buried deep in his mentor's voice and wanting to reassure him. "We will."

"Yes, Batman, sir," Kid Flash agreed. "Like Rob said."

"If you're separated from both of us, you two will stick together." It was a statement, not a question, and the two children exchanged a glance. _Of course we will_, each thought to himself.

"But that's-" KF broke off as the cowl swiveled back to him. Even through the blank white lenses he could feel eyes drilling into him, but he had to ask. "…That's not going to happen, right? I mean, it's supposed to be easy…?"

"It doesn't hurt anything to be prepared, Kid," Flash said quietly. "Odds are that nothing will go wrong, but if they do, we want to make sure you two know what to do, so you make it back here safely."

"It's cool, KF," Robin threw in beside him. "Like Batman said, we'll stick together." For all that he was a little bit disconcerted by how concerned the adults seemed about a supposedly simple mission, he was clearly more comfortable with all the talk about emergencies than the other young hero was.

"…Right," the redhead gulped.

"Anything else?"

"How're we getting there?" the raven-haired boy asked immediately.

"You and I will go in the car."

"And we'll run along behind," Flash tacked on. "That way we get a warm-up, since we brought the Zeta tube here, plus you can see how to get back from where we're going, Kid."

"Cool," KF relaxed a little. _I could use a good run, especially since it sounds like we're going to be standing around outside in the cold for a little while. I just hope Batman doesn't drive the speed limit the entire way…_

He found that he had no need to worry about that. As soon as they were out of the cave, the Batmobile sped up to nearly eighty, barely slowing to take corners. Once they were in the heart of Gotham, it was all he could manage to do just to make note of where they were and keep track of the car. They had to careen onto the sidewalks to dodge traffic a couple of times, but once they were out of the commercial and red light districts even that ceased. Finally the sleek black vehicle slowed, turning down a lightless back street and shutting off. KF came to a stop behind it, Flash at his side. "Nice run, huh?" the elder speedster asked. "It's fun to chase this thing. Batman always manages to pick, uh, _interesting_ routes."

Inside, a black glove reached over and gripped Robin's arm before he could throw his door open. "Listen to me."

"What's up?"

"I know you're excited about the mission tonight and about getting to spend time with Kid Flash," he acknowledged. "But I want you to be very careful. _Do not_ take unnecessary risks. If something goes wrong, Robin, I want you to go home and tell Alfred what happened. He knows what to do."

"All right," the boy agreed, his discomfiture deepening. _He's never lectured me like this before,_ he mused. _He seems unsure, but…I've never seen Batman uncertain about anything before. It's weird._ "If something happens, I'll grab KF and we'll go tell Alfred. Got it." He gave him a broad smile, hoping it would cheer the man up a little. "Can we go get some bad guys now?"

"…Yes," he agreed, easing slightly as he decided that his son understood what was expected of him. "Remember your stealth," he reminded needlessly. "And stick close to your friend. He's newer at this than you are." _And if something happens, he can get you out of there much faster than I can,_ he didn't add. He wished he could loosen the knot between his shoulder blades; it was one of his classic signals that something was up, but without having any clue as to what it was he had no good reason to call off the mission. _We'll carry forward until and unless something changes,_ he told himself firmly. _The nervousness is just because it's Robin's first big fight. It's fine._

"I will."

"Good." In the privacy of the car, he felt safe letting his hand rise to cup one precious cheek for a moment. "You're going to do very well tonight," he said unexpectedly, startling himself.

"…Thanks," the boy said softly. "I'm gonna try."

The cowl nodded. "You do that. Let's go."

"…Problem?" Flash asked as they finally stepped out onto the pavement. On the few other missions he'd been invited to in Gotham, Batman had always been out of the vehicle almost before it stopped, his eyes dead set on whatever their goal was. _But he didn't have Robin then, either,_ he reflected. _And I'll bet that's it. He's different now, a little bit less rough around the edges in some ways. It's good. _He almost laughed, but bit it back, knowing the look he would get if it broke free. _Who would have ever guessed that what the 'goddamn Batman' needed most of all was to become a father?_

"None. You?"

"Nope. We're ready."

"You know where the warehouse is from here?"

"I looked over the maps you sent. We're set."

He turned to find that his partner already had his grappling gun out and was merely waiting for his permission to fly. _Good boy, _he thought, removing his own hook from his belt. Without a word being exchanged they fired at the same time and rose into the shadows.

"Ready?" Flash asked when they were alone. He hadn't wanted to broach the question in front of the others in case the answer was less than positive.

"…They are _so_ freaking awesome," Kid Flash breathed, staring after them.

Now the man laughed, free from the threat of a Batglare. "They kind of are, aren't they?" he clapped him on the shoulder. "Let's go back that awesome duo up," he jerked his head in the general direction of the warehouse. "Stick close," he advised.

"I will," KF nodded. Taking a deep breath, he sped off on his mentor's heels. _I can do this. I won't screw it up like I did the meeting eavesdropping. _That was the one thing he'd feared all week, was that Robin might be less than impressed with his skills following his misstep in the air ducts. _I'll make up for it, somehow,_ he determined. They halted outside of a miraculously unguarded exterior door, and as he looked up, searching, he was just barely able to discern the pair leaping onto the roof. Anyone who didn't know they were there would never have caught it. _I can be awesome, too, _he swore as Flash gave him one last wink and disappeared, heading to his own entrance point. _I'll prove it to you, Rob. I'll prove I'm worthy to be your friend._


	10. Chapter 10

They dropped into the warehouse silently and scooted along the rafters. Batman waved his partner over to one side of the boat slip cut into the floor below, then took up a position opposite him. The boy, he was glad to see, melted into the shadows despite his outrageously bright costume. _He gets better and better at that every time we go out,_ he mused as he directed his attention to the floor. _Damn it. There are more than my source said there would be, fifteen at least._ His eyes narrowed behind the cowl. _In fact, there are more men down there than I've ever seen at a simple drug transfer. Something else is going on._ He glanced back up to the black corner that he knew held Robin. _He shouldn't be here. Neither him nor Kid Flash. This is too much for their first big melee._

"Flash," he muttered into his radio.

"Here," came back.

"Are the doors guarded?"

"No. Why?"

_That makes no sense. So many extra bodies, but no one on the exterior? _"There are over a dozen men in here."

"…That's odd. No one being outside is even weirder."

"Yeah."

"…What do you want to do? This is starting to sound not very kid-friendly."

He didn't answer for a moment. _I can't call off the mission entirely, not when there's obviously something bigger than I thought going on. We need to find out what it is that they're all here to guard, and the best way to do that is to stop the shipment right when it gets off of the boat. But those men are heavily armed, and there are bound to be at least a few more arriving with the drugs. _Despite his confidence in Robin's skills, he couldn't bring himself to let the boy drop into such a fray; the time for that would come, and soon considering how quickly his abilities were developing, but it wasn't tonight. "Robin," he voiced, "Kid Flash. You will retreat. Go back to the car and wait for us there."

"But-"

"_Now,_ Robin."

"…Okay." He sounded a little hurt, and Batman determined to find something that he and the boy could do tomorrow evening to make up for the loss of tonight. _It's not that I don't think you can handle it; I just don't want to run the risk until I've seen you handle multiple armed assailants in a slightly less uncontrollable setting. Taking out one preoccupied man in a deserted back lot is much different than fighting several with guns on their own turf._

"Okay," Kid Flash's voice, disappointed but slightly relieved, echoed. Batman couldn't actually see his protégé exiting back onto the roof, but he sensed when he had departed. _Next time, partner, _he swore. _You can stay next time. This, though, was just a little bit more than I'm ready to expose you to._ The sound of a low motor rose on the water outside, and a few seconds after Robin had gone two of the guards below began to roll back the doors to the slip, allowing a decent-sized boat into the building. _Just in time,_ Batman sighed in relief. "Cargo has arrived," he informed Flash.

"Copy. Ready here."

On the roof of the next warehouse over, Robin paused and looked back. From his angle, he had a sliver's view of a boat slowly pulling into the building he'd just left. _There weren't __that__ many,_ he thought. _Not for four of us._ Still, though, he supposed he understood Batman's reserve; this was his and Kid Flash's first real mission, and the man didn't want anything going wrong. _He can't control all of the elements all the time, though,_ the boy mused as he swung his way back to where the car waited. _It's just not possible. Sooner or later I'll be involved in something outside of his comfort level, and there won't be anything he can do to stop it._

"Hey," KF said with a weak smile as Robin dropped beside the car a minute later. "Sucks, huh?"

"Yeah," the younger boy sighed. "The shipment arrived right after we left, too."

"Lame." He shifted. "…Do you think they'll be all right in there? That's a lot of guys for two people."

"Batman can take on that many by himself. With Flash to help him, they'll probably be done in no time. And now that they don't have to worry about us…" he trailed off.

"…Maybe they'll save us a couple? For, I dunno, punching practice?"

"I doubt it. Batman's all about quick incapacitation."

"Damn."

"…Does Flash let you swear? I wish Batman would let _me_ swear. Even just on patrol, you know?"

"Well, I'm not _supposed_ to, but…they're making us wait out here. I think we deserve a couple swear words."

"I like that logic." Looking up, he could see no stars. _Stupid city lights,_ he griped, missing the view of space he had at the manor.

"I _hate_ waiting," KF moaned. "It's so boring."

"…You could run in place?"

"Booooring," he droned, his voice rising in volume as he drew out the word.

"Shh! Hey, dude, c'mon, keep it quiet! We're still technically on a mission." _We probably shouldn't even be talking,_ he realized.

_Oh, crap, I did it __again__,_ Kid Flash groaned to himself. "I…I'm sorry," he apologized, immediately dropping his voice. "I didn't mean to screw things up again."

"…Again?" Robin wrinkled his nose and gave him a curious look, tucking his hands under his arms as he did. _Brr. It's cold even with my gloves on. Of course, they aren't really lined to be warm or anything, so I guess I shouldn't be surprised._

"You know…I made noise in the air duct last weekend, and got us caught, and then just now…" He looked away. "I'm kind of bad at this, Rob."

"What? Dude, KF, no way. You're awesome. You just have to remember to slow down a little, that's all."

"…Do you mean that?"

"About you slowing down? Yeah. Not to be mean or anything, I know it's probably hard with your powers and all, but…"

"I…I meant when you said I was awesome," he all but whispered.

"Oh." He blushed. "Sorry. But I totally meant that, too. You _are_ awesome. You're the coolest kid I've ever met."

"Yeah, right," he scoffed at the last part.

Robin's eye narrowed behind his mask. "You can run like a billion miles an hour. You hang out and train with Flash. And…and you're not a jerk about it. You're less of a jerk than ninety-nine percent of the 'normal' people – adults included – that I've met since coming to Gotham. That…that counts for a lot, KF. At least, it does to me." They were quiet for a moment. "I'm really glad I met you. I was starting to think…well." _I was starting to think I was __never__ going to have a friend. _"Anyway. You're really cool, Kid Flash. At least in my book."

"…Hey, Rob?"

"Yeah?"

"…You're pretty damn cool yourself."

"…Really?"

"Yup."

"…I don't _feel_ cool most of the time. Especially not lately," he added under his breath.

"What, seriously? I might run around with Flash, but you work with frickin' _Batman_. And all the stuff you can do…I mean yeah, I can run fast, and that's great, but I could never do all those sweet moves you can. I figured you would feel cool _all the time_."

Robin shrugged. "We're not Batman and Robin _all the time_. We've got regular lives, just like you and Flash do, and right now…right now my regular life pretty much sucks." He sniffed a little, but swallowed his tears. "Remembering that I'm Robin doesn't make the mean things everyone says go away, it doesn't make it easier to do normal things to make Br-Batman proud of me, and it doesn't bring my parents back to life." He stared at the icy ground, arms wrapped around himself, so distraught that he didn't even realize he'd just given the other boy a big piece of information. "It's easier to forget when I'm in costume, but…when the mask comes off, all of those things are still there, KF. And I can't do anything about them."

"…Your parents?" Kid Flash asked, his eyes wide. "They're…?"

"Yeah. I-" His head jerked up. "Oh, no, I wasn't supposed to tell you that! Oh…hell," he cursed, shaking his head. "He's going to be so mad at me, I _promised_…"

"Whoa, dude. It's not like you took your mask off and showed me your birth certificate. Chill. He doesn't have to know that you mentioned them. I won't tell. Honest."

"You…you won't?"

"No way. Bros don't rat on each other. Besides, you didn't tell on me when he asked who made the noise last weekend; I owe you one. And…" he looked away, shuffling his feet. "I'm sorry about your parents. That…that must really suck. My parents aren't very nice, but…"

"But they're still breathing."

"Yeah."

Sniffling one more time, Robin pulled off a glove and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. "Stupid cold air screws with my sinuses," he muttered.

"Nice try, mini-Bat." Closing the distance between them, Kid Flash slung an arm around the smaller boy's shoulders. "It's okay, Rob. I mean, it sounds like you have plenty of good reasons to cry. I'm sure not going to hold it against you."

A broad smile unfurled across his face, relaying his happiness at those words so completely that it didn't matter that his eyes were hidden from view. "…Thanks, KF."

"Hey, that's what friends are for," the redhead brushed off. "Or so I've heard. You're kind of the first real friend I've ever had."

"Yeah. I know what you mean. Adults think that just because you play with other kids, that automatically makes you friends, but…there's more to it than that. I mean, just because they work with other adults doesn't mean that _they're_ all friends, right? So why should it be the same for us?"

"Exactly! We _are_ actually friends, though, right? We're not just," he waved his free hand in the air, "playing together?"

"…I don't spend a whole lot of time almost crying in front of people I consider to be just acquaintances," Robin smirked. "Do you?"

"Nope," Kid Flash grinned back lopsidedly. "Me, neither."

"Sooo…"

"Sooo…You okay now?"

"…Yeah. I feel a lot better. About a few things, actually."

"Sweet." He unwrapped his arm from around the younger child and held out his hand. "Bro fist?"

Robin laughed delightedly, balling his fingers up and touching the resultant fist to the one KF was offering. "Totally."

"Awesome."

They were content with that for several minutes, exchanging smiles as they soaked in the glow of finally having someone they could call a friend. "…Should it be taking this long?" Kid Flash asked finally.

"I don't know. We haven't heard any gunfire, and we're only a couple blocks away. Batman wanted to wait until they were halfway done unloading the stuff, so maybe they haven't even attacked yet."

The redhead sighed. "Crap."

"Yeah…" As he trailed off, a series of sharp pops sounded from the direction of the warehouse they'd left their mentors in. "There they go." Unconsciously he crossed his fingers, hopping up and down as more guns joined in. _Wow, that's a lot of bullets,_ he couldn't help but think. _…I'd be glad we aren't in there if I knew they were safe. This is awful, I don't like standing here listening to Batman get shot at by drug dealers. What if he needs me? I mean I know Flash is there, but…it's not the same._

Slowly, though, the sounds faded. Just as they were beginning to relax, certain that the heroes must have gotten the upper hand, a large truck sped by their alleyway. Both boys' eyes widened as they saw that the bed of the vehicle was bristling with armed men. A few seconds after it vanished from sight, there was a squealing of brakes as the truck came to a stop. "Reinforcements," Robin whispered. "There's no way they're expecting that!"

"We've got to help," KF insisted. He was clearly ready to run, but seemed to be waiting for the younger boy to agree. "I can carry you, it'll be faster!"

In a split second, he made his decision. _The new guards won't be expecting us to show up, and especially not from outside, so we stand a pretty good chance of getting at least a couple of them before they even notice. Batman's going to be really mad if we go back, but if we don't, they could get hurt. _He flinched as a bloody vision popped up in his head. _ Or worse. _That was all the impetus he needed to leap onto the other child's back. "Let's go!"

_I don't care __how__ mad he gets at me, _he thought as Kid Flash took off and the world blurred,_ at least if he's angry it means he's not dead._


	11. Chapter 11

It took them mere seconds to cover the distance between the car and warehouse. Robin voiced his plan as it formulated in his head. "They'll still mostly be outside. When we get close, lean forward a bit and let me jump off of you. I'm gonna go forward, so duck your head. You say when." As he relayed their next move, he tensed, knowing he wasn't going to have much warning of when to spring. Indeed, the last word had been out of his mouth for less than the space of a breath when he felt KF bend towards the ground.

"_Now!_"

He reacted instantly, arching as he launched himself from the speedster's shoulders with a handspring. Kid Flash, he sensed from the direction the breeze of his passage blew, had dodged left as soon as the last weight had left his back, and knocked out a man on the other end of the group before he touched the ground. Flying now at a speed he was more used to, Robin took quick stock of the situation. _They brought another dozen, and these guys have even bigger guns,_ he gulped, hitting ice and automatically rolling. He rose to his feet, leapt backwards as a huge, laughing man made a swipe for him, and then kicked out and connected with the brute's kneecap. There was a harsh _snap_, and the guard's face contorted as his amusement at seeing a child enter the fray turned into agony. Robin had to hustle to keep from being landed on, but his escape trajectory allowed him to put his fist into another goon's face. His momentum added serious weight to the punch, and his second man in as many seconds crashed down. _Yes! This is awesome!_

Realizing that there was more than one person dealing damage to their group, the gunmen split, four heading for Robin while the others began to fire wildly outwards, hoping to hit whatever demon was taking them out almost without being seen. Three of the quartet approaching the dark-haired boy reached for the handguns strapped to their hips, and his mouth tightened. _When someone's shooting at you, __keep moving__,_ Batman's instructions from one of their earliest training sessions rang in his ears. _Your greatest talent is movement. Use it._ Seeing them spread out slightly, apparently thinking that he would try to run, he grinned. _Perfect._

KF was still speeding in circles around the quickly tightening edge of the baddie mob, reaching out to strike every time he had a good angle, when he heard shots begin to sound again. _It's weird, I thought I'd be more afraid than this. But it's all so natural…it's like my feet just know where to go. Like now,_ he thought, dodging between two of the shooters who weren't concentrating on his cohort. _Hah, bet they think I'm still out there, too,_ he laughed. _This is so much fun. _He was going to try and help Robin, who he'd seen being encircled by several other guards, but it quickly became obvious that the kid could handle himself. Kid Flash ringed the inner bunch a few times as the acrobat leapt up, the first shot ricocheting off the pavement where his feet had been an instant before, and began to throw himself from body to body. _He's like an angry pinball,_ the redhead giggled, watching two of the four collapse under painful-looking kicks.

Confident that his friend could finish the other pair, he turned, sped up behind one of the men who were just beginning to realize that they weren't hitting anything, and dealt him a blow to the back of the head. Seeing their compatriot fall in their peripheral vision, the guards on either side of the now-unconscious man swiveled inwards, their fingers still tight on the triggers of their guns as they searched for their assailant. KF had just turned to come back and take another of them out from behind when the pair fired into one another.

His feet froze to the concrete. _Oh. Oh, god. They just…They just…_ Part of him knew he shouldn't be fazed by it, should just be able to carry on with the mission without a second thought other than maybe being glad that there were two fewer adversaries to deal with, but his brain kept clicking over that moment again and again. _I've never seen anyone actually get shot before,_ he thought numbly. _Action movies don't do it justice. Their faces, when they realized they were shooting at each other without meaning to…and then when they…and that one's __head__…_

"KF! _Move!_" Robin screamed. He'd finished off the last of his own opponents a moment before, and turned to check up on the other boy just as the unlucky gunmen hit the ground. His timing didn't allow him to see them shoot one another, but he _did_ see Kid Flash standing completely still, gaping, in the middle of the parking lot. More importantly, he saw the evil smile on the last standing guard's face as he, too, noticed the horrified-looking figure and prepared to take full advantage of the situation. _Not gonna happen, you sleazeball,_ he swore. His hand dipped to his belt, pulled out a batarang, and chucked it so hard that he heard it connect with the man's skull from thirty feet away.

Kid Flash heard Robin's call and snapped his head around to find the barrel of an automatic weapon trained on him. He ducked just as a single shot whizzed through the air where his head had been a moment before, watching as his friend threw something. The shooting ended as the object smacked into the back of the gunman's head, making his eyes go comically wide as he toppled forward, unconscious. As the smaller figure hustled over to him, he pushed himself back onto his feet, still shaking and unable to stop looking at the two lying in spreading puddles of blood.

"Dude, KF, he didn't hit you, did he?" He gripped his arm and pulled him the rest of the way up. "…KF?"

"Are they dead?"

"What?"

"Are…those two there…are they dead?"

Robin glanced over at the men he'd seen fall just before he noticed the danger the other boy was in. "I…I don't know." He glanced around the parking lot, but nothing moved. _I would have thought Batman and Flash would be out here by now,_ he worried. "Maybe we should go in-"

"We have to check, Rob. We can't just leave them."

"…No. You're right." _They might be bad guys, but they're still people. No one's attacking us or seems to be trying to get away from the warehouse with anything. We have time; we can't walk away knowing they could die. _He approached the first bleeding body, but before he got there he knew it was useless. _Half of his face is just gone,_ he felt his stomach flip, quickly going towards the other man instead. "KF! This one's breathing!" he said, dropping to his knees and pressing his hand against the worst-looking wound. A second later the speedster was crouched beside him, looking on anxiously but not touching anything. "We should call an ambulance. What happened?"

"They shot each other."

"…_Huh?!_"

"I knocked out the guy between them, and I guess when he fell they must have thought it was me or something, 'cause they turned towards each other and…and they were still firing…" He hiccupped, and Robin shot him a worried look.

"Dude, are you okay? Seriously, I need to know."

"I'll be fine. It's just…"

The figure under the smaller boy's hands jerked suddenly, gasped twice for air, and shuddered into stillness. _Maybe I can try CPR…_ The hopeful thought trailed off as he glanced down the rest of the guard's body and found multiple other entrance points. _Even if I brought him back, the ambulance would have to be Flash speed to get here in time,_ he gulped. _They aren't supposed to die when we attack them. Just take a long nap…_ Shaking himself as he pulled his arm back, he sighed. "Sorry, mister," he said quietly. "It's not supposed to work this way."

"Rob…did he just…did he just _die_ right in front of us?"

"…Yeah, KF. He did," he whispered, wiping the blood off as best he could against the cold ground. His head jerked up as Kid Flash vanished. "…KF?" he ventured. A second later he heard the sound of retching from just around the corner of the warehouse. _Oh. Oh, no. I'll bet he's never seen someone…oh, man._ Rising with a final, regretful look towards the body, he moved silently up behind his friend, who was leaning palely against the wall, one arm around his stomach, his cheeks wet with tears. "Hey," he said softly, resting his head on the other child's shoulder and wrapping a comforting arm around his waist. "I'm sorry."

"…F-for what?"

"I didn't know you'd never seen someone die before. I just kind of assumed…and that was dumb of me."

"…I'd never even seen someone get shot before," he revealed, swiveling away from the puddle he'd made. "They…it was like they knew, you know? And that one guy…his _head_, Rob…Jesus." He covered his eyes. "You didn't see it?"

"No. I was facing away. I didn't see them until they were on the ground." He bit his lip, throwing his other arm around him and giving him a proper hug. "It's awful, I know. But…you didn't do it. It was an accident."

"I know, but…" He wiped his eyes and peered down at the dark-haired form trying to make him feel better. "…How come this doesn't seem to be bothering you? That guy died right under your hands, and you're comforting me. What's with that?" _Is something wrong with you, or what? _he thought angrily, a feeling of inferiority rising in him again.

Robin took a small step back at the edge in his voice. "I'm sorry," he echoed his earlier sentiment. "It's not that it doesn't bother me." He closed his hands reflexively, felt the gummy warmth that still streaked them, and winced. "It's just…it's not the first time I've seen someone die," he said uncomfortably.

"…What, you've seen it with Batman? Flash said you've only been going out with him for a few months, though, when did you see-"

"It wasn't with him," he cut him off, looking away. "It was…before him. No one's died when Batman and Robin were both around." _Not yet, at least._

Kid Flash was confused. _If he didn't see someone die since he's been working with Batman, then when did he…_ It struck him suddenly, and he felt like throwing up again. "Rob…you don't mean…I mean you didn't see…_them?_"

"…Yeah," his voice broke.

"…Your own parents?"

"…Yeah."

"You-"

"I watched them die, KF," the boy said softly, feeling arms pull him close as his tears started.

His anger at being more affected by the deaths they'd just witnessed faded as what he'd heard sank in. "…I'm so sorry, man."

"I couldn't do anything for them, either. Just like that guy. It was just…too much." They stood like that for several minutes, each lost in his own thoughts.

"…Does it ever get better, Rob?"

"Which part?" he sniffed, calming himself, trying to regain control of the situation. _We're still in danger, and we've got to figure out what's going on with Batman and Flash. There's no way they wouldn't be out here by now, not after gunfire._

"Seeing that. Seeing…people die."

"…Batman says no. But it's part of the job."

"A really sucky part."

"The worst part, he says."

"He's right."

"Yeah. He usually is." He stepped back a bit. "Do you feel any better?"

"Not really, no," the redhead admitted.

"Me, either." He paused. "The hug was nice, though. Thanks. It made me feel not alone."

"Sure thing," he gave a weak smile, still looking horribly sick. "Me, too. Thanks."

"Any time." Shoving his roiled emotions aside, he flicked on his radio. _We have to keep going. We've got to find Batman and Flash._ "…Batman?" he asked hesitantly. _Where are you?_ "Come in, Batman? Flash?" _Anybody who doesn't want to kill us at this point, really,_ he thought.

"They aren't answering," Kid Flash muttered. "_Why _aren't they answering?"

"I don't know," Robin shook his head. _He shouldn't have sent us away. We could have helped!_ "This isn't good." _He's never disappeared like this before. He __always__ answers his radio when I call._

"…Maybe they're just out of range?"

"These are good up to ten miles."

"No signal, then?"

"There's nowhere in Gotham that they don't work, except the sewers. And Batman wouldn't go down to the sewers without either getting us or sending us back to the cave. Besides, the cops need to come and get all of these guys, and the drugs, too. They would be here by now if he'd called them before the reinforcements arrived. If he didn't call them, that means he must not have gotten a chance to."

"What do you want to do? What Batman said? Go back to the cave?"

"I…" _Alfred knows what to do, he said. But what would __Batman__ do? If we leave now…maybe they're just in there unconscious or something. It would be really, really stupid to go all the way back to the cave and then find out all we had to do was get them from the other side of the wall. Plus, if they got caught by these drug runners, they could move them. They have a boat and three trucks, they could take them anywhere. How will we know where to go if no one's here to see where they take them?_ "We've got to get inside, KF," he whispered.

"How? We can't just waltz right in, what if there are more guards?" To his credit, his voice also dropped in volume.

"…The same way we originally planned. I'll go up to the roof and radio you, then you come zooming in from here and I'll drop from the rafters."

"…Dude, that plan didn't work so well the last time. I mean, judging from the radio silence."

"I know, but anyone inside definitely won't be expecting a couple kids to do the exact same thing. And I can scope it out from up top before we go in. Plus, anyone who's left will be weakened. You _know_ they didn't go down without a fight."

"…Just be really careful, okay?"

"I will be," he promised. "You, too." Seeing that his words didn't ease the stress on Kid Flash's face in the least, he tried to smile. "It's cool, KF. We're gonna do what Batman said; stick together."

"…Says the kid about to disappear on top of the roof," the redhead pointed out.

"I'll keep my radio on. You do the same. Then we can hear if anything happens. Okay?"

"…Okay." The younger boy had his grapple in hand when the other stopped him. "Rob!"

"Yeah?" he asked, turning.

"…For good luck," he offered his fist.

"Yeah," he sighed, bumping it. "We're gonna need it."


	12. Chapter 12

In the rafters, Batman watched the boat bump its way into the slip. _Only two additional people,_ he noted. _Good. That makes it easier._ The new arrivals stepped up onto the floor of the building and met with one of the guards, all three speaking in low tones. Even straining, he couldn't quite make out what they were saying. _Damn._ The inaudible conversation went on for several minutes, during which none of the armed men waiting nearby did anything more than shuffle their feet. _Why is this taking so long?_ His shoulders tightened, his mouth pinching even tighter than his usual grimace. _We should go. Something isn't right here. This feels wrong._

He was opening his mouth to whisper a fall back command to Flash when the trio suddenly broke up. _Still, though,_ he reminded himself, easing a little as the operation seemed to swing back onto a more usual track. _That's a lot of heroin to allow to hit the streets. _Several of the sidelined figures moved forward and began to remove boxes from the watercraft, carrying them towards the warehouse. _Just a few more, _he measured when each man had made several trips. "…Now," he breathed into his radio, and leapt.

For a few seconds, everything went according to plan. The side door flew open just as black boots hit the floor, and their entrances alone took down three of their adversaries. Without hesitation, the remaining guards began to fire. _They're terrible shots,_ the cowled figure thought a little derisively, barely even having to dodge as he knocked out another pair of henchmen. _…Or,_ he thought a moment later with a jolt, _very, very good ones. Fuck me, this is a setup._ "Flash!" he shouted, not bothering to use his radio. "Trap! Get ou-"

He coughed as he caught a lungful of something that was definitely _not_ oxygen. _Shit, what is that? No smell…no taste…_ Around him, the guards were hacking and collapsing, a couple still firing their guns. A spray of bullets pinged off of the metal tiles nearby as he slumped to his knees, fingers tripping at his belt, trying to retrieve his compact gas mask. _Fast acting, whatever it is…at least Robin's out of it, safe…did Flash get out? He's quick, he must have gotten out. _The darkness closed in, the cold floor rising to meet him. _Robin's safe. He's not here. Safe…_

Flash heard Batman's call and retreated immediately. He'd worked frequently enough with the other man to know that sticking around to make sure he also got out safely would _not_ be appreciated, so he dashed outside and halfway across the parking lot. When there was no sign of him after several seconds and the report of weapons didn't cease, however, he began to regret his decision. _If it's a trap, he should have backed off, too. Why is he still in there?_ Two more seconds, and no doors flew open, no dark figures appeared on the roof. _Nope. Going back in._

The last shot rang out as he re-entered the building. Inside, he paused for a moment in shock. When he'd left less than ten seconds before there were six or seven bodies on the ground; now there were more than twenty. No one was standing, or even moving. Gunmen had fallen with their fingers locked around triggers, keeping the pressure on until they simply ran out of rounds. In the middle of the room, surrounded by downed guards, a familiar cowled figure hunched over itself. He took a breath, and nearly choked. _Gas. Shit. Can't leave him in here, it could be poisonous._

He tried to zip to his ally's side, but could only manage a third of his normal speed. _Whoa. What is this stuff? I took __one__ breath… _He barely got his hands locked around a Kevlar-clad arm before the room spun. Instead of lifting the incapacitated hero's weight, he was dragged down by it, flopping inelegantly across him as his brain lost control of his limbs. _Cursed fast metabolism. Hell. He's going to kill me if we wake up in this position…assuming we wake up…_

Sometime later, he woke up. _Wow. Okay. That was crazy. _Cracking his eyes cautiously, he found Batman trussed up on his right, still unconscious. _It might have hit me faster than it did him, but it wore off faster, too,_ he determined. _At least the kids weren't there. God, I hope they did what Batman told them to and went back to the cave. How long was I knocked out, I wonder?_

"You haven't been out long, if that's what you're trying to figure out," an unfamiliar voice informed him. He raised his head and found an angular, ferret-faced man leaning on a table and observing him, a quiet smile on his face. "Maybe twenty minutes. I don't pay my men to work slowly."

"Where are we?"

"How stupid do you think I am?"

"Robin," Batman muttered as he came up, his last thought before he'd succumbed to the gas slipping through his lips. _It's odd, there don't seem to be any negative physical aftereffects from whatever that gas was, _he noted a moment later as he shrugged of the last of his grogginess._ I'm clearheaded, breathing is unencumbered, not nauseous in the least…what __was__ that? I want it._

"Ah, you're awake," their captor said, his smile spreading. "Very good." He glanced at his watch. "Exactly on time. I am quite good at my work, am I not?"

The cowl lifted, eyes narrowing beneath it as he studied the man in front of him. _I don't know him. Who is this? _"What work is that?"

"…You mean you don't recognize me? I'm a little disappointed. Also relieved, to tell you the truth, but…mostly disappointed. I thought you, the great Batman of all people, would know me." He shoved his face close in to the chained man's. "You looked for me long enough. The poor, unassuming victim, kidnapped, potentially brainwashed by some foreign government or terrorist cell…but you never found me. Which was good, of course, because I was never missing. _I _knew where I was and what I was doing. I didn't want to be found. That's why I changed all of this," he touched his own cheek lovingly. "I'm much better looking now, don't you think? I should have done it years sooner. I might even have stayed on your side of things if I had. Maybe if I'd looked like this instead of the fat, simpering little geek I was, I'd have been treated differently." He laughed. "But it's too late for sentimentality."

_How the hell did he expect to recognize him if he's had so much plastic surgery?_ Batman mused. _Someone I looked for for a long time, who I thought had been kidnapped and potentially brainwashed, but whom I never found…_ "Daniel Sawyer," he breathed disbelievingly.

"You _do_ remember me! Oh, I just knew you would, once I gave you a few little hints."

"…Wait," Flash interjected. "Daniel Sawyer, the lead Department of Defense research chemist? That's _you_?"

"In the flesh."

"…Huh." He remembered that particular JLA mission, far more complicated than one would think a simple missing scientist could be. Not even Batman had been able to solve it. Daniel Sawyer's disappearance was one of the League's very few incomplete ventures. _Wow. This guy's pretty good, if he managed to hide from the government __and__ Batman for, what has it been now, almost five years? Of course, he is a genius…_

"What kind of gas was that, Sawyer?" came a growl as the man to his right went straight to business.

"One of my own design, of course. Isn't it wonderful? Very fast acting, as you noted, especially in high dosages. And yet, no harsh physical aftereffects. The only hurdle I could never clear with it was that damn coughing. You can tell it isn't regular air the moment you breathe it in." He sighed. "Well, I suppose we all have our flaws, don't we?"

"What's this about? How long have you been operating in Gotham?"

"Oh, Gotham's just one phase of the plan. The first phase, I'll admit it, but still just the beginning." He began to walk up and down the room slowly. "Here's the thing, you see; working for the DoD was nice. Good pay, a very well equipped lab, and some veeery interesting little projects. But it wasn't enough. There was no _thrill_. There was no power. And despite the fact that I was offering up brilliant ideas, they kept being shot down as 'impractical' and 'against the Geneva Convention.'" He rolled his eyes. "General Schumacher was quite adamant about that one, in particular. If you want an operative to tell you the truth, though, why _wouldn't_ you give them a truth serum? It's far more media-friendly than waterboarding. Mine wouldn't even have resulted in the mental wandering that the mixtures currently available do. I could have just done it anyway, I suppose, but I was disenchanted after that."

"…So you ran," Batman determined.

"I think you'll agree that it was more like I fell off the face of the earth," Sawyer opined. "I vanished. And I was reborn."

"Into what, though?" Flash asked.

"That remains to be seen. Well, all right, not really; it's more or less certain at this point. I'm going to command a very, very large army by the time this is said and done, gentlemen, and you are going to be two of the first soldiers privileged enough to join it."

"…Sawyer, what the hell are you talking about?" Batman sneered.

"Do you know who controls the heroin trade in Gotham?" Sawyer answered with a question.

"Several people. It isn't all under one person."

"Oh, but it is. You see, all of them work for me."

"…What?"

"Not by choice, of course. They're all…shall we say under my spell?" He picked up a half-full syringe from the table and turned it so that the needle glinted. "This is a very, very delicate neuroserum," he explained. "Again, my own design. Thank you," he bowed dramatically. "Once it enters the body, it modifies the brain to act as a receiver tuned to a very specific wavelength. The person is still perfectly functional, with no sign whatsoever that anything has changed; however, they are utterly and completely bound to do whatever the man with the controller – that's me – tells them to. It's purely subconscious, as well; they think the things I tell them to do are their own ideas. And it's ninety nine percent effective; a mere one percent are able to disobey or overcome the drug and the instructions I relay through it."

"…And?"

"Oh. It isn't obvious? I've managed to get this beautiful concoction into the bloodstreams of every major heroin dealer in Gotham. They now buy their drugs only from me. All of the heroin in Gotham, or at least the vast majority of it, comes through me first." His smile widened, revealing perfectly even teeth. "And I've finally figured out how to combine the two."

"…You've put the control serum in the heroin?"

"Yes!" he squealed. "Oh, it took months and months and _months_ to get right. So many dead prostitutes. It's unfortunate, a few of them were quite pretty," he shook his head, looking at the ceiling as if he was counting them. "But it worked, finally. It worked. Tonight's delivery is the first batch, you see. The beginning of a new wave. Tomorrow morning, all of the heroin being sold on the streets of Gotham will have been doctored with my serum. By tomorrow night, or the night after…well, you know how heroin addicts are. Always needing the next fix. It won't take long for thousands of people to be bound to my wishes without even realizing it. When I've run my final test here in Gotham, the product will be spread to other cities, across the country, until I control every heroin user in the country."

"That doesn't sound like a very capable army," Flash commented. "What are a bunch of strung out, emaciated addicts going to be able to do for you?"

"It's all a question of motivation. As I said; always needing the next fix, aren't they? This effort will take time, of course, potentially several years. But that's all right. Once someone is under my control, I can simply tell them to buy only from my approved dealers; and once they're programmed to do that, I cut off the supply. Poke people on the subway with this serum needle; murder the cop on the corner; burn down the White House. Until you do, all of my dealers are sold out." He shrugged and spread his hands. "Sorry, dears. It's not necessary to cut off their supply, of course – they'll do what I want just from the serum effects – but inciting junkie desperation _will_ help them do what I want faster and, I imagine, with less whining and wasting time."

"Jesus," the speedster whispered.

"It's brilliant, isn't it? You," he directed at Batman, "were my biggest hurdle. You keep catching my dealers and my practice dummies in the midst of crimes I've told them to commit to make sure the serum is at full strength. I should be glad that they're doing the deeds, of course, but it was very inconvenient to have my test subjects continuously arrested. You were also the only one who ever even got _close_ to finding me during my transformation, and that…that was impressive. I knew you'd figure it all out eventually, my whole plan, especially once I'd really begun to get the ball rolling, and would of course try to stop it. So, my little side plot, culminating in tonight; lure you here through your informant, who, as you know, is a dealer, and is therefore under my control, and make you my puppet."

"It won't work, Sawyer."

"Oh, of course it will. The plan was to give you the serum and keep you here just long enough to make sure it did its job. In a moment of, I'll admit it, self-aggrandizement, I give you the standard, expected villain monologue – so clichéd, I know, but I _do_ love it – and let you ask your questions, just so that we're all very clear about who is the winner in this battle. I'm even answering your questions honestly, can you believe that? You'll be released in a few hours with explicit instructions to forget what happened here; all of it. The suggestion will be made that you go easy on heroin users for a while. And then you'll be left dormant, so to speak, but very useful in case someone gets suspicious, grows too close to the truth. With two of you…" he glanced between them, "oh, well, that's just twice as good, isn't it? Double prizes, so to speak. I knew I was right to be wary of you; the mere fact that you brought help along on what I tried so hard to make look like a normal trafficking maneuver says so much…"

"And if we break free before you inject us?" _Flash can vibrate through walls, for god's sake,_ Batman thought as he broached the question. _I'm starting to think that he's only still in those cuffs because he wants to know more about how the serum works. I do, too, but I'd rather learn more once we're free._

"That won't happen." His grin widened.

"…How can you be so sure?" the speedster asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Because if you weren't under my control right now, fast man, don't you think you, at least, would have _already_ broken out?"


	13. Chapter 13

Back in his spot on the rafter, Robin melted into the shadows. Looking down, however, he quickly discovered that stealth had been unnecessary. _Oh. Everyone's unconscious._ His eyes narrowed. _Why__ is everyone unconscious, though? That looks like about how many guys there were before, so if they're all knocked out, where are Batman and Flash? _"Hey, KF," he spoke quietly into his radio.

"…Yeah, Rob?"

"Look, it's weird in here. I'm going to drop down and take a look around, try to figure out what happened. You stay there, don't come inside yet. If I don't radio you in thirty seconds…" He trailed off. _If there's a gas or something down there that knocked them out, it could be lingering. If it knocks me out too, and then KF comes in looking for me, we're totally screwed. _"If I don't radio you in thirty seconds, and you can't get a response, go back to the cave. There, uh…there will be someone there to help you. Tell him everything."

"…Robin, I am _not_ leaving if you suddenly stop answering your radio!"

"It's not a choice, KF! If I stop answering, it means I'm unconscious and there's something in here that will knock you out, too! Someone has to be able to get us help."

"Gaaah…damn it!" _Why is your logic so good?!_

"I know it sucks, dude, I'm sorry, but…yeah." He paused. "I'm dropping now." A second later his feet hit the floor. He stood up immediately, assuming from the fact that he'd been fine up by the ceiling that any chemical remaining in the room – assuming there had been one to begin with – was heavier than the air and would be concentrated near the ground. He took a few slow, experimental breaths; the air was a bit heavier than he expected, but that was all. _It must have dissipated,_ he decided, frowning. _Or it wasn't a gas at all. _"Okay," he gave the all clear when the thirty seconds had passed and he still felt no reaction to anything. "C'mon-"

Kid Flash was beside him before the door has finished opening.

"-in," he finished. "Eager much?"

"Seriously? Flash and Batman are AWOL. There's like twenty guys passed out on the floor in here, and you just jumped down in the middle of them after telling me to stay outside and _run away_ if something happened." He crossed his arms. "I am _not_ leaving you alone any longer than I absolutely have to."

Robin grinned. _Wow. Okay, friends are __awesome__._ "I get it," he nodded. "Let's figure out where they went. I think that door over there goes into the warehouse section of the building, where they were supposed to load the trucks. You check there for them, and I'll take a look at these jerks."

"…Okay. Be right back." He flew to the next room. _There are the trucks, _he noted. Seeing a few boxes left scattered around the backs of the vehicles, he laughed. _They must have gone running back to the other side when Flash and Batman attacked…_ There was nothing else of interest to his eyes except the stairs along one wall. Taking them, he found that the second level was emptier than the first. _Dust bunnies. Not helpful_. "Nothing," he reported, returning to where Robin now hovered over one of the downed guards. "And nobody."

"…KF, we have a serious problem."

"What's wrong?" He crouched down beside him. "You okay?"

"I'm fine, but…these aren't the same guys."

"…Huh?"

"These aren't the same men we fought outside."

"Well, yeah. Those guys are, you know…outside. We're inside." He wrinkled his forehead. "Are you _sure_ you're okay?"

"Look at their clothes," he pointed out.

"What about their clothes? They're in uniforms, so what?"

"These men are in uniforms, like you said, but the ones outside were wearing colors. They weren't dressed alike, not like this. I don't think we were fighting reinforcements; I think we were fighting these guys' _rivals_." He shook his head. "I should have realized before we attacked…"

"…So we just fought in a gang war? Is that what you're saying?"

"I…I think so."

"Whooooaa…"

"I'd have to get a better look at the people outside to have a chance of knowing which gang they're with, but…I've never seen these outfits before. Batman probably has, but I haven't." _Batman. I've __got__ to find him, before this all gets any weirder. _"Nothing next door, you said?"

"Not a thing."

"Huh." Standing, he made his way over the control panel for the wide doors that opened to the river. "This is an awful lot of buttons," he opined, running his fingers across them lightly.

"…You could push some of them?"

"Yeah, but what if they do something we don't want? Nothing's labeled. I'm still thinking that everyone might have been knocked out by some sort of gas; that's why I wanted you to wait to come inside, so I had a chance to make sure it wasn't lingering. That would explain how Batman and Flash could have gotten caught. If that's the case, one of these buttons might be what triggers the release. We don't want to push the wrong thing and gas ourselves, or set off an alarm or something, you know?" He studied the board. "I'm guessing these two," he indicated two large buttons, one red, one green, "run the doors."

"So these other ones…?" Kid Flash asked, pointing to an array of twelve smaller controls.

"No clue. Lights, maybe? Door locks? This doesn't seem like that high-tech of a building, though." He sighed, his shoulders slumping. "For all we know one of these buttons is wired to-" he cut off as a groan came from one of the men on the floor. "Would you keep those guys out of it while I work on this?"

"Sure." A moment later he'd tapped the waking guard on the back of the head and rushed him back into dreamland. As soon as he'd finished with him, several of the others began to move, forcing him to speed up his assaults.

"KF! Let one wake up!" Robin ran over, leaping over splayed bodies as if they weren't there. "Here, this one. I'll get him bound, you knock out all the other ones." By the time he finished, the dark-haired boy had their chosen guard zip-tied hand and foot and was trying to drag him to lean against the wall. Despite his slight size compared to the body he was hauling, he was managing to make progress, a determined look on his face. "Maybe we…ugh…can get this one to…oof, he's _heavy_!...to tell us how it works." _Or better yet, just tell us where our partners went. That would work, too._

"Cool." Grabbing the captive under his other arm, the older child helped carry him to the wall and lean him against it. They both bent down, and KF snapped his fingers in front of his face. "Hey! Wake up!"

The man flinched, but that was it.

"Great, I picked out you'd apparently already hit," Robin sighed. "Oh, here, I know," he said a moment later, reaching for his belt. "Smelling salts." He shoved the vial beneath their prisoner's nose, making him jerk.

"…You just carry those around with you?"

"It's _amazing_ how much stuff fits in one of these belts. I've had my own for like four months now, and I still forget some of the things I have. Batman's is even bigger; he could probably patrol 24/7 for a month without restocking, I swear. It's like something a superhero survivalist would wear."

"Heh. Survivalists."

"H-hey," the guard groaned. "What's going on? Who…who the hell are…" His eyes widened as they fell on Robin. "Uh-oh. I've heard of you."

"Dude, you're famous!" KF punched his shoulder playfully. "A goon knows who you are!"

"True stardom," he rolled his eyes.

"You're that kid who's been running with Batman! Oh, shit." His eyes searched the rest of the room. "…Where'd he go?"

"So he _was_ fighting you?"

"Yeah. And then they released the gas, and we all went down."

"Who's 'they?'"

"Mr. Sawbones. It's his gas."

"…Okay." _Well, we know who we're up again, at least. Although I don't remember coming across anyone named 'Mr. Sawbones' in the files Batman's been having me read… _"So it was a setup. A trap."

"I don't know what you're talking about." The guard's face had suddenly gone blank. "A trap?"

"Um…are you okay?" Robin asked.

"What? Hey, let me go." He began to struggle.

"Quit it," Kid Flash warned him. "Where did they take them? Flash and Batman?"

"…I don't know what you're talking about."

"Let's try this a different way," Robin said slowly, realizing that for some reason certain information was closed off in the man's head. "Why were you here tonight?"

"To…" his mouth worked anxiously, a battle going on in his eyes as his brain tried to find an answer that wouldn't disobey the imperative given to him by Sawyer. "To move cargo," he managed finally.

"What kind of cargo?" _It's almost like he doesn't realize there are things he knows but physically can't say. If we phrase it wrong, or go after a piece of information he's been told to block out, we run into a wall. So open questions might be a better bet._

"Heroin. Mr. Sawbones wanted…extra protection. It's an important shipment, he said."

"So you were here, and Batman and Flash showed up. Then what?"

"…Then I woke up," he shrugged. His face suddenly tightened. "Hey, wait, I shouldn't be telling you _any _of this. I'm incriminating myself! I want to use my fifth amendment rights!"

"We're not the police, guy," KF rolled his eyes.

"I'm done talking."

"One more question," Robin said quickly. "And there's nothing in it that's illegal, so there's no reason not to tell us." _If you can, at least. _He pointed to the control panel. "How does that work?"

"You push buttons, and then things happen, kid," he spat. "That's all I'm saying."

"…Fine. I'll just have to find out for myself, then." _Maybe I can bluff him. If I act like I'm going to push buttons and he knows that the one I'm reaching for does something he doesn't want me to do, maybe I can get more information out of him._ Standing, he moved back to the control panel and considered his options. "Let's start with this one," he announced, hand floating over one of the smooth white circles.

"Go ahead," the guard sneered. "Hit it. See what happens."

"…Hmm." _That could be one that would do something useful for him, like summon more men,_ he pondered. _Or he could be bluffing right back at me._ "I don't know, I like this one better," he moved over one space. The man immediately began to struggle, trying to break out of his zip ties. _Maybe not bluffing, then._ "Yeah. This one looks good." He dropped his hand, one finger extended.

"Stop! You don't want to push that one, it…it calls the police!"

_He's lying,_ Robin bit back his grin as he recognized the same little pause and warring expression that had occurred when their captive was trying to circumlocute a blocked piece of information a few minutes before. _This button does something he doesn't want us to do, but he can't tell us what that thing is. That makes me think it's tied to whatever happened to Batman and Flash, since he can't seem to talk about that, either._ "…Well, why is that a bad thing for me?" he shrugged. "I haven't done anything wrong tonight. Have you, KF?"

"Nope."

"Okay. Police it is, then." He jabbed the button, and the man screamed wordlessly. Kid Flash took a step back from the noise, glancing at Robin uncertainly. "Knock him out!" he called. "Before someone hears him!"

The speedster moved to do so, but before he could the sound ceased on its own and the figure slumped forward. "…That was weird," he said. "Hey, man, why did you-" He reached down to shake their prisoner's shoulder, and he fell over, eyes open and glazed. "Oh. Oh, jesus, Rob, I think this guy just freaking _died_." In an instant he was beside the other boy at the control panel. "What is it with people dropping dead tonight?" he whined.

"Chill, KF," he soothed, patting his arm briefly before going to inspect the guard. "…Yeah, he's dead," he whispered, checking for a pulse and finding nothing. "I don't get it," he shook his head. "Sure, he didn't want us to push that particular button for some reason, but why would he _die_ right after? He didn't seem disoriented, or like he had any injuries that would have caused it…"

"Rob!"

"Yeah?" he turned to face him.

"Look!" Directing his eyes to where the other boy was gesturing, he gasped. One edge of the slip had separated from the rest of the floor, and was slowly pushing back the water to reveal a narrow set of stairs with a door at the bottom.

"No way," he breathed, joining Kid Flash at the top of the new staircase. "No wonder he didn't want me to push that button. This has to be where they were taken!"

"Oh, man. This is, like, James Bond level stuff right here!"

"Yeah, let's just hope whoever's behind all of this is as dumb as Bond villains tend to be. Although the fact that that guy just dropped dead when we found something we weren't supposed to makes me think they're probably not…" _Someone blocked particular pieces of information in his head, and then I'm guessing triggered his death when that information was accessed, even though it wasn't his fault. What could do that, though?_ He sucked in a breath. _If I'm right, and all of these men were given the same instructions, then that means…_

Swallowing hard, he approached the closest downed guard and pressed fingers into his neck. _Oh, thank god._ Working his way around, he checked a total of eighteen bodies; all, save the one they'd been talking to, were still breathing. _If I hadn't pushed that button, if I had __listened__, that guy would still be alive, too,_ he realized. "…KF?" his voice wavered.

"…Are the rest of them alive?"

"Y-yeah. But I…I shouldn't have pushed it…"

"It's not your fault, bro. You didn't know he was going to just…die like that." He led him back to the stairs. "You couldn't have known. You had to do _something_."

"…I don't know how it works, KF, but it's like he was mind controlled. It's like whatever was controlling him killed him when he wasn't able to keep us from finding the basement."

"Maybe he just died out of coincidence, Rob," Kid Flash offered weakly. "You know…he had a bad heart or something."

"…You don't really believe that, do you?"

He sighed. "No. But I thought it might make you feel better."

"…Thanks for trying." He shook his head. "They've got to be down there somewhere," he stated, staring at the heavy marine door.

"Yup."

"How do you feel about continuing?"

"Dude, you're asking me? I mean…" he shuffled his feet. "I know we didn't really talk about it or anything, but I'm cool with following you on this. You've got more experience, and you're _way_ better at figuring this stuff out. I never would have thought to psych that guy out to figure out the buttons."

"Yeah, well…you see how well that worked out."

"I know he's dead, Rob, and that you feel guilty, but it _wasn't your fault_. Besides, you got what we needed." He paused. "Batman's going to tell you the same thing, you know."

His friend's confidence in him managed to convince him to keep calling the shots despite the dead man. "…I think we should go downstairs and look for Batman and Flash," he said finally. _Hopefully this Sawbones guy hasn't got them under whatever stuff he had that guard under,_ he prayed fervently. _If he does that to them, and something happens like it did up here…_ He shuddered. _It won't,_ he swore fiercely as they traipsed down the stairs. _It can't. I won't let it._

_I'm coming, Bruce. Just like I promised I always would._


	14. Chapter 14

There was a moment of stunned silence. "What?" Flash breathed.

"I know what you're capable of," Sawyer stated. "You'd have been out of those cuffs in less than a minute if the serum hadn't already done its job. I injected you both while you were unconscious." He smiled. "And I see it's working, because you're still here."

"Try to overcome it, Flash," Batman advised.

"I wouldn't!" the unchained man warned, holding up a hand as Flash's muscles tightened. "There's another aspect of the serum that I haven't told you about. I'm sure Batman would feel just awful if his recommendation got you killed."

"_Killed_?"

"Yes. Killed." He began to pace. "I didn't spend the whole of the last five years making gas, you know. I used a lot of that time to become very familiar with the human brain and its awesome power over the rest of the body. There's still so little known about it, so many questions about the intricacies…I exploited that. I had ideas and plans and a wealth of homeless and desperate people to experiment on, so I played, gentlemen. Oh, how I played, exploring the physiology of the nervous system to depths I don't imagine any other scientist ever has. And I learned so much. How to control people via remote control, obviously, and how to shut down the sense so quickly you barely have time to realize what's going on…but also how to make sure that anyone who managed to disobey my orders would immediately be disposed of. You break the rules, you die instantly. And I've ordered you to _not_ consciously use your powers while you're under my control."

"Consciously? Why so specific?"

"I had to be. As you're well aware, some of your abilities – your metabolism and the like – are out of your control. I _think_ your brain would have automatically slowed those things to comply with the order, but I didn't want to take the chance. That is the one difficult thing about this, is the specificity one must go to in order to ensure orders can be obeyed without conflicting with previous, unrescinded imperatives. Right now that's especially important, since we're just gearing up. Later, when I have legions, it won't matter so much, but with superheroes, I want to be careful. You're the officers of my advance, and therefore worth far more to me than the peons upstairs." His pocket gave a low, short beep suddenly. "…One of whom has just died, coincidentally, from disobeying an order. Which one, though, I wonder? They all did their job in keeping you distracted long enough for the gas to work…"

Flash and Batman watched as their captor hurried to the opposite wall and turned on a large screen that had been invisible in the shadows. _Security cameras,_ the cowled man thought. _Of course._ The screen was divided into several blocks; three showed the rooms of the warehouse while the others featured dim, dank-looking halls and rooms that he could only assume were the areas surrounding their current location. A couple of guards stalked the passages, their faces bored. Beside him, he heard Flash gasp. "What?"

"The boys. Upper left panel," he hissed back.

His eyes flew to the corner of the screen. _Damn it, Robin! I told you to go back to the cave if we didn't return!_ _Get out of here! _He paused, watching as the child moved swiftly among the bodies on the floor. _Is that…is the floor opening up on the left?_ He could just see the edge of a set of stairs at the bottom of the panel. _We must be underground, then. It doesn't smell like sewer, though…_ He thought for a moment. Several years earlier, he recalled, there had been an effort to punch a new tunnel under the river nearby. A station had even been built in preparation for the tunnel's opening, which was touted as guaranteed to bring new life to the warehouse district by providing easier access to the rest of the city. Two days before the first train went through, however, the tunnel collapsed. The city engineers said it must have been sabotage, but Batman knew better. He'd checked it out, suspecting criminal activity, and had found that the riverbed was insufficiently stable to support the weight of the structure. It hadn't been sabotage, just stupidity.

…_And now we're inside the station,_ he realized. _It's been abandoned for years, it makes perfect sense for someone like Sawyer to be using it. That explains how he has access to the electricity to run that screen and his cameras. Now that I think about it, I can't believe no one's tried turning it into a base of operations before._

"Ooh, what have we here?" Sawyer cooed, noticing the two small figures holding a discussion at the top of his secret entrance. "Little heroes. How completely adorable is that? Rushing in after their daddies, full no doubt of tales of bravery and friendship. So sweet." He smile turned sharp. "It gives me some very fun ideas, you know…I've never tried the serum on children." Turning, he was confronted by a pair of paternalistic snarls that would have melted half the criminals in Gotham.

_The one time I wish I'd left my lenses up, _Batman cursed, lips pulled back from his teeth. "Don't even think about it, Sawyer," he growled.

"So protective," the chemist praised him. "I would say excellent parenting, but then again you gave him a costume and brought him here tonight, so…maybe not." He pulled what looked like a homemade walkie-talkie out of his pocket. "Now you get to see how this works," he taunted. "Green team. Two children have infiltrated the facility. You are to capture them and bring them to me." He paused. "Don't hurt them too badly."

"You'll have to catch them first," Flash grinned.

"I assume that this one," he tapped where Kid Flash was just throwing a final glance up the stairs before letting the secret door shut behind him, "has abilities similar to yours. In which case, the little one must belong to Batman. Green team has been trained well, I assure you; they'll take the easy one first, and use him to coerce the other out of hiding. I'm sure you'll be having a touching reunion in just a few short minutes. Then we can get to work. I'm thinking perhaps a little dueling, master versus apprentice. Not to the death, of course, I wouldn't want to waste any of you. Or…oh, and this is even better…I'll just have you beat them for no apparent reason, then give them the serum and order them to believe that they were beaten by the guards. The scars will remain subconsciously – I'll bet they flinch every time you raise your hand near them after that – but they won't know why they're a little afraid of you. You'll remember, though…"

_No. I'm not doing that,_ Flash swore to himself. _I will never lay a hand on Wally like that. He's already gotten too much of that from his father, I'll never do it to him._ "I won't do," he negated, shaking his head.

"You _will_ do it."

"No. I won't. I don't care if refusing makes my head explode, I won't abuse him."

"Hmm. We'll see." He turned to Batman. "And you? You're the cold, calculating one; surely you realize that a fully trained adult is more likely to be able to stop me than a simple _child._ You wouldn't kill yourself to keep from hitting him. After all, it's not as if I expect you to kill him. And if something happened and he did die, well…you can always make another. Or isn't he your biological child? If he isn't, I imagine it will be much easier for you to obey."

"…You're wrong."

"On which count, Batman? Enlighten me."

"Fuck you."

"Ahh, you've grown attached!" He leaned in close. "I can't wait to watch you hurt him. I think you might cry doing it, you know."

"I refuse."

"You won't, when the time comes," Sawyer predicted. "Because you know I'm right. Without at least one of you in the world, replete as you now are with the secrets of my project, there's virtually no chance of anyone stopping me. In a way," he pondered, "I suppose I _may_ have planted the seeds of my own downfall. Oh, wait!" He held up the controller and waved it about. "I can just order you not to stop me. Watch, it's easy." He lowered it to his lips. "Batman and Flash, do not stop me," he intoned. "And you didn't even feel it, did you? But you won't stop me now. You _can't_. You're mine. And, I might add, if you both kill yourselves by disobeying such a _simple_ order, you leave them in my hands, under my control…with no one to even attempt to protect them." Leaning on the edge of the table, he crossed his arms and stared at them giddily. "Let me explain some of the intricacies of my serum while we wait. No one else really _gets_ it, but I'll give you two a spin." With that, he leapt off into jargon and formula, lost in his own brilliance.

Batman listened carefully, absorbing every detail he could. _He says he can make us forget, but I doubt the memory will be wiped, _he reasoned. _It's more likely to just be tucked away. Martian Manhunter may be able to retrieve the information at some point. _His eyes, though, stayed riveted to the screens still flashing behind the narcissistic Sawyer. The boys had encountered their first guards in a hallway, and he watched anxiously as they took them down. _I wish there was sound. _Robin landed a particularly clean uppercut to a man half again his height, and Batman nearly smiled. _Nice one, partner._ The young duo regrouped and made their way out of sight. He surveyed the other blocks for them, but they seemed to have entered an area where there were no cameras. _Whatever you do, Robin,_ he thought fervently, desperately wishing he were telepathic, _don't get caught. _


	15. Chapter 15

"Let's take this slow," Robin breathed when the door had closed behind Kid Flash, leaving them in the harsh fluorescent light of a damp tunnel. "Sorry," he added, knowing the four-letter 'S' word was probably the last thing the speedster wanted to hear.

"You're the boss," KF shrugged back, only grimacing slightly at having to restrain his urge to fly through the corridors until he found the missing men.

They proceeded up the hall, stepping around the puddles formed by constant drips from the ceiling. _At least there's enough water falling that it covers up any noise we might make by accident,_ the raven haired child thought. _The ceiling doesn't look very, uh, stable, though,_ he added, noting the sagging and cracks that marked the concrete overhead. _Where are we? This can't be part of the sewer, it smells way too good for that. The subway, maybe? I don't hear any trains, and this place looks pretty abandoned, but why else would there be a big, man-made tunnel underground that wasn't sewer?_

Their route came to a T, and they stopped. "Now what?" KF whispered.

Robin shook his head. "Give me a minute." He scanned each direction, hoping for some evidence that one path was more frequently used than the other. _Stupid wet floor doesn't even leave a chance for footprints,_ he griped. _We could go back to the surface and alert Alfred. Batman's got a tracking device. I don't know if it can be read from underground, though…after all, our radios don't work…and I really don't like the idea of just leaving them, especially with this mind-control stuff going on._ Growing frustrated, he threw his head back, trying to think, and an anomaly caught his eye. _Heeey…_

Crossing to the opposite wall, he peered upward for a second, then grinned. "Security cameras," he hissed, jerking his head towards it. KF's eyes widened.

"They've probably seen us!"

"Sure, if they've got someone watching. But look, they're not going to set up cameras in areas they're not worried about protecting, right? Look," he pointed down the other direction. "No cameras. This way, though," he turned, "there's another one at the far end there. See it? And they're both facing towards the way we're coming from, like they want to be able to see anyone entering from that direction. So, we need to go this way."

"_Nice!_"

"…I just hope they don't have sound," Robin mused, a slight frown creasing his lips.

"Yeah, no kidding."

They moved forward, picking up speed slightly as their confidence grew. Three corners later, they came to another T, and were stuck. "Crap. There are cameras in _both_ directions here."

"Um…Huh. What do you think we sho-" Robin dragged him back against the wall suddenly, raising a hand to silence him.

_Guards,_ the younger child mouthed.

Concentrating hard, the redhead picked up on the slight rise and fall of voices that had alerted the other boy. He thought he could discern a couple of timbres, and held up two fingers with a questioning look on his face. Three were shown back. _They're getting closer,_ he realized as he began to be able to pick out words over the drizzle of river water hitting the ground at his feet.

_They could still be pretty far down the tunnel, _Robin considered. _This place makes everything echo. If we jump out too soon…well, they've got guns, and Batman says concrete is one of the worst materials for ricochets. We're better off waiting until they're close._ "Do you think you can look down the hallway and check on how far away they are fast enough that they won't see you?" he whispered, leaning in close.

"No prob, Rob," KF rhymed an affirmative, grinning. They switched places, and had Robin not been watching when the speedster performed his feat he wouldn't have known he'd moved at all. "Three, like you said. All armed. About thirty yards out, moving up pretty quick. They look like they know we're here somewhere."

"Shadows?"

He peeked again. "Out in front of them."

_Convenient._ "We jump at the shadows," he relayed, receiving a thumbs up.

It didn't take more than a few seconds; as Kid Flash had said, the guards were moving fast, operating under the imperative issued through their subconscious by Sawyer. Even though they were all on high alert for the intruders, none of them expected to be leapt on as they prepared to round the corner. Kid Flash vanished the moment the edge of the tallest guard's shadow was visible, racing around in back of them and knocking one out swiftly. He kicked out at the second one's knee just as Robin landed an impressively sharp punch on the jaw of the third. They both heard the joint dislocate as the gunman collapsed, his weapon clattering to the floor. Running on the momentum of their respective take downs, both boys zeroed in on the last conscious man, who despite the pain in his leg was still trying to bring his gun to bear. Robin's boot knocked the weapon from his hands just as KF delivered him to unconsciousness. With all three of their adversaries down, they exchanged broad smiles.

"Kaay-_eff,_" Robin joked.

"Heh, you actually said it! Awesome!" He raised his fist, received an enthusiastic punch, and they moved away down the hall.

A few yards later, however, the smaller boy stopped. "Wait," he said, his face pinched.

"What's wrong?"

"…If they were ordered to catch us, and we tie them up and escape, it might count as them failing to do what they were told. And then…you know. Brainsplosion. Just like the guy upstairs." _I can't let that happen again…Now I wish we hadn't punched out that last one…_ He walked back to the pile of guards, chewing his lip as he flipped them over. The last one stirred slightly as he was shifted, and Robin quickly bound his hands and tossed his gun out of reach. "Hey!" he said sharply, patting his face. "Wake up!"

"Dude, I guess I should have hit him harder," KF wrinkled his nose, recognizing the first man he'd knocked out.

"It's okay, it's actually a good thing you didn't. Hey, you, c'mon!"

"Mpphglmm…what the - hey!"

"Yeah, you got taken out by a couple kids. Get over it. You knew we were here, though," he said urgently. "You were looking for us, right? What were your exact orders?"

"…We were hired by Sawbones to protect the corridors," the man answered, dazed. "That's what we were doing when you attacked us."

"Then why were you double timing it in our direction?"

The man looked confused. "…Exercise?"

"You don't understand, if we don't know what your orders were, we might not be able to keep you from dying!" Robin said desperately. "Don't you remember anything?"

"We didn't have any special orders. We were just…patrolling. What do you mean, dying?"

_Oh, god, they don't even know what they're doing when they're under orders! _Robin realized._ Their bodies just…do whatever they were told. Their conscious minds don't seem to come back into play until they're questioned, and then they don't remember what was going on before…this is really bad. How can I keep him, and probably these other two, from dying like the one upstairs if I don't know what his orders were?_ "KF, I don't know what to do," he moaned. "Just walking away could trigger whatever weird mind control thing killed the one from before!"

"Oh, man…and he doesn't remember what he was told to do. Great."

"Nope. Nothing."

"What the _hell_ are you brats talking about, mind control? And how did you get down here, anyway?"

"_Hey!"_ a new voice barked from the end of the corridor as another patrol group rounded the corner.

"Shit!" Kid Flash swore as gunfire started. Dashing forward, he grabbed the younger boy and took off back the way they'd come. "You hurt?" he asked a second later, setting him down.

"No, I'm fine. But we have to go back."

"I know, they just caught me off guard. I just reacted. I hope I didn't get that guy killed, taking off like that…"

He bit his lip. "…It can't be helped now if it did. You were just doing what you felt you had to. It's okay. But I still don't know what to do about the mind control. We can't just let them die for disobeying their orders, but if their orders were to capture us, we can't let them succeed, either." He rubbed his temples. "This is really confusing."

"Well…maybe we should just focus on getting to Flash and Batman, and deal with the rest of it after that. I mean, I don't like the thought of these guys dying because we're escaping from them, but getting caught doesn't sound like a good idea, either."

"…Actually…it's not all that _bad_ of an idea," Robin said slowly, reconsidering. _If we do it right, it could work. We'll split it down the middle. If at least one of us gets captured, then maybe the guards won't have technically failed their mission, and they won't die. They might even take us straight to Batman and Flash; then we won't have to search for them for who knows how long. But we can't both get caught, that will give this Sawbones guy too much leverage. There has to be a someone free to act as back-up, just in case it all goes awry._ "KF," he said slowly, "I have a plan, and you're going to hate it."

"…What?" he asked warily.

"You're going to help me get captured-"

"Like _hell_ I am!"

"-and then you're going to follow us, carefully, to wherever they take me." Seeing that he had the speedster's attention, he went on. "We won't actually be separated, and if it starts to look bad, like they're just going to…you know…kill me, or something, you can always rescue me. I'm hoping they'll take me to Batman and Flash. If they don't, we'll figure a way for me to break out, and then we'll keep looking for them ourselves."

"That's a _terrible_ plan! You can't just hand yourself over to them!"

"It's the only plan that doesn't potentially get a lot of people killed, KF! I know you don't like it – I'm not a big fan of letting myself be captured, either – but if you've got something better that will keep those guards from being killed and get us to where we're going, I'm listening!"

The taller boy turned away for a second, angry. _This __sucks__,_ he moaned. _I finally make a friend, an __awesome__ friend who I really like, and our first mission goes all to hell. What if they have orders to just kill us? What if something happens and I can't move fast enough to save him?_ A million possibilities flew through his head, none of them good. "…I don't want to be alone again," he thought out loud, clapping his hand over his mouth as he realized he'd voiced the words.

A hand landed on his shoulder. "Me, either, KF," Robin said softly. "But it's the only way. I can't just keep fighting through those guards knowing that doing so might be sentencing them to a death they have no idea about. One was bad enough. We can't even just leave and go back to the cave; if they see us on the cameras, our escaping might be enough to trigger what's killing them. So please, help me with this. We _have_ to get to Batman and Flash."

"I know."

"…I promise, you won't be alone again." Gulping, he came to a grim realization. _Mom always said that I was born so little, and so early, that the doctors said I wouldn't make it._ _When I was four and the big top caught fire after the show, I was asleep in the hay, but I woke up choking and managed to crawl out._ _The night they…the night they died, I should have been in the air, too, but I wasn't, because the show was two minutes behind schedule. The afternoon after I ran away with Gobblehead and that snow slide caught me should have been my last; but it wasn't, because Bruce saved me_. "…I seem to have this weird luck when it comes to not dying," he laughed mirthlessly.

"…You say that like you've come close more than once."

He shrugged. "I have," he admitted tightly. "But I'm still here. So…will you help me, KF?"

_He's right. We have no other choice. I hate it, but there's nothing else we can do. _"You better be right about your luck, bro," he whispered fiercely. "If you die, I'll freaking kill you."

"…You make _no_ sense sometimes, did you know that?" Robin nudged him, trying to break the tension.

Kid Flash snorted miserably. "Shut up and get on my back, would you? If you're going to get captured on purpose, we might as well get it over with as fast as we can."

"Let's do this," the acrobat replied firmly, grabbing hold and catching his breath as the world began to fly by. _I hope I'm not screwing this up,_ he thought. _But what else can we do?_


	16. Chapter 16

They stopped when they reached the spot where they'd left three unconscious men a few minutes before. "They're gone," KF said, surprised.

"…The ones who were shooting at us must have taken them further into the tunnels," Robin surmised.

"What do you want to do?"

"Keep going, I guess. Run until we find enough guys to make it look like I'm not just giving up." _I can't walk up to one of them and throw my hands in the air. They'll know something's up. It's going to have to look real._

"…Okay." He took off again, zipping around corners. A few seconds later they hit a large, open room that had clearly been designed as a subway platform. Plywood bridged the tracks in several places; bunks and tables and a couple ratty couches all had their spot. Ten men turned to stare at them as they slid to a stop. "Rob, are you sure…?"

"Go!" the younger boy hissed, jumping off of his back and diving for the closest guard. "Stick to the plan!"

_Too many,_ Kid Flash moaned as he took off back down the way they'd come in. He heard a couple start after him and halted when he was out of sight of the main room to wait for them. _C'mon, you slowpokes, I've got to get back in there so they don't drag him away without me seeing where they go…_ The instant the pair came into view, he pounced, leaving them moaning on the floor before he doubled back. _I'd better not stay in this hallway,_ he thought. _I don't want them coming up behind me if Rob decides to make those guys work for it._ With that in mind, he sped across the room in a blur, sticking his fist out to take down another guard as he barreled by. _That felt good,_ he grinned, zooming into an empty passageway and pressing his back against the wall. Every few seconds he popped his head around the corner to check on the mission's progress.

_Nice one!_ he nearly shouted as the red and black demon pinging from man to man reached out and did a one-armed vault from someone's head. His sudden exit from the fight resulted in one of the guards' punches plowing into the face of another, and a delighted little cackle echoed through the chamber. _Dude…that was slightly creepy sounding, but also totally awesome, _the waiting speedster grinned as the man who'd been hit stumbled backwards and fell onto the track. Even at his distance, he could see a bolt of relief cross Robin's face as there was a howl of pain from below but nothing to indicate that the downed gunman had been electrocuted. _Good thing for him that someone turned off the third rail._

There were only four left standing now, and surveying them Robin realized that he needed to curb his natural desire to get them all on the ground. _I can't be captured by people who are unconscious,_ he reminded himself. _I'm going to have to take a hit or something, make them think they got me fair and square. Well, _he amended, _as fair and square as a group of gun-wielding adults versus one nine year old can be._ With that in mind, he threw himself towards the nearest man, determined to let this one get a hold on him.

With the masked boy barreling towards him, the guard couldn't restrain his fear. He'd seen how quickly the others had gone down – hell, Frobisher hadn't been anywhere _near_ the kid, and he'd just collapsed – and wasn't interested in joining them. _I'll just scare him, get him to stop long enough for me to grab him,_ he thought as he brought his gun around. _Don't want to hurt him too bad…_ Unaware that they were not his own thoughts but following them just the same, he pointed the barrel towards a section of wall between himself and the costumed youth tumbling closer and pulled the trigger.

Robin saw the weapon move and dodged to one side. Had it been pointed at him, it would have been an expertly executed avoidance maneuver. _Was he trying to scare me with that?_ he wondered, a little smirk beginning on his lips as the bullets slammed into the concrete a ways in front of him. Before his expression could fully form, though, something bit violently into his shoulder, knocking him off balance and sending him crashing onto the broken tiles that edged the platform.

His momentum ceased just before he fell down onto the track, and he lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling above as an unintelligible wail tore from his throat. _Aaah! Ow, ow, ouchie…Batman!_ he shrieked in his mind as an agony he'd never imagined possible flooded his arm and part of his chest. _Ow…aah, Bruce, it huuurts…make it stop…please, make it stoooop…_ Tears slipped past his tightly closed lids as his hand rose to the wound. He flinched back at the first touch, then managed to cover it, fresh blood wetting his palm. _Ow…ow, oh god…the mission…gotta…get a grip…_ "KF! The plan!" he screamed, knowing that as soon as the other boy saw him like this he was likely to enact a rescue. Sure enough, just as the words left his mouth he felt a breeze rustle by. _Can't stop…Batman needs help…this is ooooww this is perfect…I don't think it's too bad, and they stopped shooting…_ _Stick to the plan, bro. Stick to the plan. Oooooww, Bruuuuce…_

Kid Flash had just finished taking about his millionth look around the corner when he heard shots, followed immediately by a sickening thud and a cry that could only belong to one person. He sped from his hiding spot, his vision darkening as he drew close enough to see the crimson streaked across a section of floor. As he flew past Robin, set on taking out the remaining guards, he heard his shrieks form words. _The plan?! _he thought wildly, diverting his path just enough to not collide with the first man he'd been aiming for and circling around the room instead. _Rob, you've been __shot__! How can you be thinking about the plan?! They were supposed to hit you, not shoot you! We can't…you can't…_ On his third pass, he saw him push himself into a sitting position, his face starkly pale. _Jesus, dude, lay down! Make them carry you or something! Oh, god, I hate this…_

"Hold it, kid!" the guard barked, rushing over. "Don't move!" He didn't know why, but he felt it was imperative that he make sure the child wasn't too badly injured.

"You…you freaking shot me, you jerk!"

"Hey, it was a ricochet! I wasn't even aiming at you!" he defended himself. "Let me see it?"

"…Why?" he sobbed, cringing away. _Where's Alfred? Alfred would know how to make it feel better, just like he did when that mugger cut my arm open…I want to go home…but Batman…Sawbones has him, and Flash…can't…have to get them first. Then home…_

"…Just let me see!" he ordered, shaking his head.

_It must be part of the order,_ he realized vaguely. _They were told not to kill us. He's trying to make sure he didn't accidentally disobey, and he doesn't even realize he's doing it…_ He howled as the man tore his hand away from the wound and prodded it. _This is really weird, a bad guy making sure he didn't hurt me too much…ow, you bastard!_ he protested. _Oh, Alfred would have soap in my mouth so fast if he'd heard me think that word…but maybe not, I __was__ just shot._ "Stop it!" he shouted.

"How bad is it?" another gunman asked, coming up.

"It doesn't look that bad, but I think whatever hit him's still in there. It might just be a chunk of the concrete."

"Let go of me!" Robin struggled, regretting it when the world swam. _Ohh, oooow, this is way worse than getting stabbed…I can't even move my arm…getting shot __sucks__._

"Would you chill already? I don't want to have to knock you out."

That was enough to break through his pain and anger. _If they knock me out, it's going to be pretty tough to free Batman and Flash,_ he reminded himself. _I have to go with them, and I have to be awake when we get there._ He frowned as he realized that his thoughts were clearing somewhat. _Shock, maybe? Huh. Well, okay, so I'm in shock. So long as I can stay conscious and think, the plan could still work. I wonder where KF went… crap…if I call his name he'll think I want him to rescue me. I can't do that._ "…Fine," he spat, letting himself be pulled to his feet.

"Can you walk, or-"

"Yes."

"_Don't_ try to run. You won't get very far."

"Fine," he repeated. "Where are you taking me?"

"To the boss, kid. Let's go."

He followed, another guard bringing up the rear, trying to give off an air of defeat. It wasn't difficult; he felt pretty beaten, even though he suspected that with the element of surprise he might still be able to take them down if he needed to. _Don't get caught, KF,_ he pled silently, dragging along with his hand pressed to his shoulder. _Please, don't let them catch you. If they catch both of us it's all over…_

They seemed to walk for hours, although Robin knew that it was probably mere minutes and time was just dragging out because he was injured. For all that he was pretty sure the ricochet had caused nothing more than a soft tissue injury, it was bleeding like crazy, and the feel of liquid squelching between his fingers was enough to turn his stomach. _I wanna go to bed,_ he lamented. _And I want a cookie. And Bruce cuddles._ He shook himself, eyes narrowing behind his mask as he pulled his mind back onto the mission. _I can't have any of those things until we get out of here. How's he supposed to give me a hug if he's all tied up and mind controlled?_

Kid Flash dogged their heels, flying from one corner to the next as soon as they disappeared around it. Even if he lost sight of them for some reason, he realized when he glanced down briefly, it wouldn't be hard to pick them back up; Robin was leaving a pretty decent blood trail. _Jesus, dude, how bad are you hit?_ he brooded. _I hope they're taking us to Flash and Batman. They'll know what to do to make it stop._ All the while, he tried to keep an eye out behind him, worried that the guards might know there were two of them and be waiting for a chance to try and nab him as well. _I can't get caught, that wasn't part of the plan…_

They stopped in front of a non-descript door, identical to several others they'd passed in the last few minutes. One of the guards knocked, then pushed Robin forward, not unkindly, when it opened to reveal a ferrety-looking man. He gave the wounded child a smile that made Kid Flash shudder when he saw it, then narrowed his eyes at his guards. "Where's the other?" he hissed, raising his hand from his pocket to his mouth. "I said bring them _both!_"

The pair exchanged a look. "We sent two men after him when they showed up on the platform," one said. "But we haven't heard back from them yet."

"He's got to still be down here, we locked down the door remotely," the other one added. "No one's getting in or out without our say so."

_Huh, _the speedster mused. _So when this guy – Sawbones, I'm guessing – talks to them about their orders, they know what's going on, but anyone else and they just shut down. Weird._

"Never mind," Sawyer waved them off. "He'll come for his friend, I'm sure. But keep an eye out, and double the patrol at the door just in case. Do _not_ let him escape. Bring him to me, unless he comes here himself. Go now." The guards obeyed wordlessly as their leader dropped his hand back to his pocket and shut the door firmly. Kid Flash heard it lock, and a moment later a renewed cry of pain issued from behind it.

_No! What is he doing to him?! Oh, man, I don't even know if Flash and Batman are __in__ there…what if they're not? What if this Sawbones guy just wanted Rob so he could hurt him or something?_ He felt tears welling up. _Okay. That's it. It's rescue mission time. And you're not even going to see me coming, Sawbones. _"Hang on, bro; I'll get you out of there," he muttered, watching as the gunmen disappeared down a different corridor, fortunately not backtracking to return to the platform room. _And I think I'll punch him __extra__ hard for making you scream like that._


	17. Chapter 17

Batman's eyes were riveted to the screen as Sawyer droned on. The boys flitted in and out of view, coming back to interrogate a guard they'd taken down and then suddenly disappearing again. Three new men appeared, explaining their reason for fleeing, and helped the others away. A few minutes later the young heroes were back, pausing briefly in the hall before zooming off. It was almost impossible to track their too-fast-for-the-eye progress through the tunnels, but the cowled man thought he saw a few old scraps of garbage rustle in one of the panes and told himself it was wind from their passage.

Suddenly they appeared at the edge of the worst possible panel. _Oh goddamn it __no__,_ Batman cursed to himself as they seemed to freeze for a second, staring at close to a dozen men. Beside him, Flash couldn't hold back a tiny gasp as he, too, saw what their protégés had just walked into.

"I know, it's genius, isn't it?" Sawyer crowed. He'd been rolling for several minutes now, his ego inflating exponentially as he delved deeper into his plots and the science he was using to drive them. Now, looking at the speedster's face, he found his gaze fixed somewhere behind him and frowned deeply. "What are you looking at?" he demanded. Turning to find the security feed still playing, his shoulders slumped. "Have you been listening to me at all? You haven't, have you! You've been watching the screen." Storming over, he flipped it off. "That's very rude."

The last thing Batman saw was Robin pelting towards one of the remaining guards after taking out three others. _Multiple takedowns,_ he thought proudly. _And not a scratch on him. Keep going, kiddo. Flatten them._

"We're going to play a little game as punishment," Sawyer breathed angrily, ripping the controller from his pocket. "Flash, bark like a dog."

After just a second's hesitation, he began to do as he'd been told. Batman cringed slightly, embarrassed for the other man, as the chemist ran his cohort through several other animals before telling him to cease.

"Now for _you_," he sneered, turning towards the cowl. "I might not be able to see your eyes, but I'm sure you were watching, too. I won't degrade you with base magician's tricks, though; no, I want something more intense for you. What should it be…?"

A knock interrupted before he could decide on anything suitable. Tucking the controller away and throwing the door open, he looked down to find a pale, swaying child flanked by two guards, one of whom seemed to be preparing to catch the boy if he fell. A smile crawled across his face. _Oh, the fun we can have now…and look, you're already bleeding. That will send daddy right over the edge…but where's your friend?_ "Where's the other?" he demanded after wrestling the transmitter out again. "I said bring them _both!_"

His guards exchanged a look. "We sent two men after him when they showed up on the platform," one told him hesitantly. "But we haven't heard back from them yet."

"He's got to still be down here, we locked down the door remotely," the other contributed. "No one's getting in or out without our say so."

_Well…hell. _"Never mind," he waved them off. "He'll come for his friend, I'm sure." _Flash came back for Batman, after all, _he reasoned, remembering watching that scene unfold on the cameras, _so surely their little ones will do the same_. "But keep an eye out, and double the patrol at the door just in case. Do _not_ let him escape." _He could still run for help, if he gets out. That would be the smartest thing for him to do, but if they've figured out what kills the people under the serum, I'll bet that he won't even try. Foolish do-gooders, always looking to preserve life. It only ends up getting them killed, don't they see that?_ "Bring him to me, unless he comes here himself. Go now."

When they turned away, he snatched the boy inside and closed the door, locking it. "Well, well, well," he sing-songed, pushing his small captive a few steps into the room. "What do we have here? Batman, I believe that you have a visitor!" Placing his hands on the child's shoulders, he dug his fingers into the wound and forced a high-pitched scream from him.

"Robin!" the cowled man said sharply as his partner slumped to the floor, sobbing.

"B-_batman_…" His strength had been draining with every step down the hallway, but he'd persisted, set on finding Bruce and knowing that if he appeared too badly hurt it might trigger more deaths. _I found you. I found you, but now…I dunno what to do…it hurts, it hurts so much…make it stop…_

"Children make such messes," the chemist grimaced, examining his now-bloodied hand. Glancing around for something to wipe it off on, he gave a short chuckle, stepped over the kneeling and shaking Robin, and crossed the distance to the chained vigilantes. Reaching up, he smeared two lines of crimson along the caped man's jaw, then dragged his hand along the dark body armor to rid himself of the rest. "There," he sneered. "Now everyone can see that the blood he sheds tonight is on you."

"Sawyer, you bastard," he growled, his voice so deep it made his throat hurt.

"Ooh, how original. I thought I could count on you for better than that," he shook his head, striding back and dragging the boy upwards. "But I'm sure you'll improve as we go on."

"Leave him alone!"

"Or what, Batman? Oh, right; or nothing. Because _I control you_. I could kill him right here, right now, and so long as I gave the proper order you would be incapable of doing anything to keep it from happening." A tiny whimper came from the body dangling from his hands. "Oh, is that frightening, little one? I'll bet it is." He dropped him back to the floor. "And that's _good_," he added, grazing his side with a kick, "because when you're afraid, I get to test your big, scary daddy's power. I want to know just how useful he's going to be to me in this war, and you're the perfect catalyst to bring out the full extent of his rage. For demonstrative purposes, of course."

_Batman,_ Robin moaned to himself. _It hurts so bad…I got here, but what do I do?...I can't…can't do anything…make it stop…_ An overwhelming urge to be closer to the man he knew was staring at him behind the lenses surged through him. As Sawyer distracted himself with digging out a pair of rubber gloves and rolling up his sleeves, muttering something about keeping his fingernails clean, he crawled to his mentor as quickly as he could manage with only one functional arm and the world spinning. As he reached him, Batman's feet slid forward and his knees bent as far as they could go in the chains, creating a small, shadowy space between his body and the wall as he half-squatted. Robin peered up and saw a single word mouthed at him. _Hide._

The area would never have fit a normal size nine year old, but the lithe acrobat managed, pulling the cape around to cover himself as he let his weight rest against the tensed calf. His settling pushed the angled knee out a little further, and above him the man it belonged to grimaced, feeling the joint wrench slightly. _Hope we don't have to run anywhere tonight,_ he thought. _But at least you're safer there. Now so long as he doesn't see the blood on the floor…maybe I can buy you a few minutes to catch your breath…_

Beside him, Flash let his arms take the brunt of his body weight as he, too, bent at the knees, hoping that if they were both in the position Sawyer might overlook it as them simply giving their legs a break. _Where's Wally?_ he worried. From what they'd been able to overhear the guards saying, Kid Flash was still free, but for how long? _I can't imagine him leaving Robin, especially not in that condition. He looks like he's been shot…no, either something's very wrong with Kid, too, or they planned this._ He ached to ask, but he didn't want to give the poor child's location away._ God, I hope he doesn't try to vibrate through that locked door. He's not ready to even start that training yet, he'll kill himself…_

Sawyer turned back, and his face froze into a mask of disappointment. "Really?" he scoffed. "I thought we were more mature than this, gentlemen." He followed the trail of red handprints that Robin's scramble had left, and Batman's heart sank as his eyes trained on him. "Pathetic," he spat at the cowl as he reached back behind him and yanked Robin out violently. The child shrieked in denial, clinging grimly onto the limb that had done everything it could to protect him. A hard jerk broke his grip, and he smacked onto the concrete floor, the fingers of his good arm clawing at a black boot as he was dragged a little distance away. "You realize, of course," the chemist sighed, "that I have to beat him _harder_ now? I suppose you have to be taught to listen the hard way."

"It's okay, Robin," he said as soothingly as he could manage, ignoring Sawyer completely in favor of calming his curled and whimpering son. "It's okay. It'll be okay." He could feel pressure rising within him, a throbbing, dark coldness that ate up everything except his determination to keep talking the boy through it. The first blow landed, light but painful sounding, and he couldn't hold it back. Every muscle in his body contracted as he strained towards the thin, cowering figure that he _needed_ to make stop crying, _right now, damn it._

The bolts holding his chains to the wall gave a warning creak, two of them slipping a little. A wicked grin slipping across his lips – _I wasn't expecting that, but I'll take it -_ Batman rocked backwards and threw himself forwards again. One arm was suddenly free, the rotting concrete wall unable to hold against the force he was exerting. Reaching up and grabbing the metal strapping his other hand in the air, he prepared to rip it down.

Daniel Sawyer hadn't gotten where he was in the world by being a fool. As soon as he saw the first two bolts move, he reached for the controller in his pocket. "Batman, hold still!" he demanded as one of his prisoner's arms came loose from the wall and gripped the chain still restraining its match. Immediately, the violent seesawing that had been letting him break free ceased. _That was close. I should have restrained him mentally before I started…lesson learned, I suppose._

"No, no, no," Flash moaned. _We were so close. He's got an arm free, and it doesn't matter now because he can't use it. Fuck, why?!_ He understood, after having been made to imitate a variety of animals, what Sawyer had meant when he said he wouldn't have a choice of whether or to obey his orders, and he could imagine the agony that Batman was going thought right now. _He's stuck there, fixing to watch this guy beat his kid, and he can't even move enough to speak to him. _His eyes flew to the brightly dressed child at Sawyer's feet. "Robin," he tried to draw his attention away from his suddenly impotent guardian, "listen to me. It's okay, just like Batman said," he picked up the litany. "I promise, it'll be okay, we'll get out somehow-" _Don't kill him, don't, he's just a kid, damn it, why don't you take it out on one of __us__?_

"Flash, shut up," the chemist ordered, and the room went silent except for Robin's occasional hitching sobs. He bent to drag the boy up again, but paused halfway to the floor when the same knock that had announced the first young hero's capture sounded again. "Well, well," he grinned. "We have more company. My men do their jobs with such dedication. Look alive, Flash," he ordered. "I think this one's for you."


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's note: I hope everyone had a lovely day yesterday! My apologies for having given you such a cliffhanger on Christmas, but this next chapter just wasn't ready to be posted. Happy reading!**

"I am really, really bad at this," Kid Flash moaned quietly. He'd been trying to figure a way into the room for several minutes now, but to no avail. He thought briefly about going around knocking out guards in the hopes that someone had a key, but quickly realized that he'd be giving himself away to the villain inside the moment he tried to open the door. _I can't get caught, that would defeat the whole purpose of the plan,_ he grumbled. _Rob didn't get shot for nothing!_ The idea of just running for it and trying to get help was starting to look better and better, but he kept hitting the problem of the guards. _I can't, not knowing it could kill so many people. I mean…what kind of a hero would I be if I…but Robin, and Flash, and Batman…_ A second scream came through the door. _Oh, man, I am so sorry…there's got to be a way, there has to be…what would you do, Rob? Help me out here…_

Robin would look, he knew, would look everywhere, and take in everything. He tried that, frantic eyes rolling as they touched on a hundred different surfaces, but nothing leapt out as useful. _An air duct?_ he thought hopefully, scanning the ceiling one more time. _Nope. Nothing. Aagh, what am I supposed to __do__?! I can't vibrate through the door like Flash can; even if I knew how it would probably take me so long that Sawbones could just tie me up as I emerged. I can't run. The only way in is through that stupid locked door. C'mon, Wally, hurry up and think of __something__, he's hurting him in there!_ He slid to the floor, burying his head in his hands. _But what, though? What am I supposed to do, just knock and wait for him to open up?_

His eyes widened. _Oh. Oh, whoa, that might actually work! If I knock, then run back here to the corner and go for him the second the door opens…he'll literally never see me! And since he was brilliant enough to not put any guards here, it'll just be him I have to deal with!_ Standing up, he took a deep breath. _Okay, KF, you can do this. Just knock, speed away, and then come back around and punch him into next week._ Gulping – _I really, really hope this works_ – he dashed up to the door, pounded on it in the same way the armed man who'd handed Robin over had, and then vanished back to his corner.

_Come __on__, come out, please,_ he begged when nothing happened for several breaths. _Maybe I should try again,_ he was beginning to consider when the handle tilted downwards. The door cracked, then swung wide, and he bolted.

_Oh, Daniel, you idiot,_ Sawyer berated himself in the split second that bridged his realization that no one was standing outside and the sensation of an extremely displeased fist connecting with his chin. The chemist fell backwards, feeling something riding him down to the floor as two more blows landed. _He imitated the guard's knock, the speedy little son of a bitch! _he cursed transmitter flipped from his hand and skittered across the floor; busy trying to throw his arms up to block the shots pouring down on him, he didn't see where it went. The punches didn't carry a huge amount of power, but they were numerous, and the fast repetition was worse than a single hard hit would have been.

He rolled with a grunt, trying to catch the kid off balance, and succeeded in unseating him. _The serum, where's the serum, if I can inject him and then get the controller… _Flailing his way to the table and groping along the edge of it, he found the syringe. _Now to get this situation back under control,_ he thought triumphantly. Before he could get more than a loose grip on it, though, arms locked around his neck and pulled him over again. The plastic cylinder skipped away. _Damn it, no!_

Robin, lying crumpled on the cold floor with blood still oozing from his shoulder and bruises forming in the places Sawyer had lashed out at him, watched the man crash down just inside the doorway. He'd seen him issue his instructions to Batman and Flash through the compact radio that jolted out of his hand when he hit the ground, and as such he knew it had to have something to do with the mind control. When it stopped just a few feet away, he groaned. _I can't move,_ part of his mind insisted. _I __can't__ move, it hurts too much..._ His good arm reached towards it slowly despite the protests, fingers stretching but coming nowhere near. _Have to…if he gets it back…Batman would get it…I promised…_ Seeing KF get thrown off from the corner of his eye, he groped harder, giving a choked howl as his desperate movements sent fresh shocks along his aggravated nerves. His hand went limp as he curled in on himself again, trying to make the pain stop. _I wanna go home, Bruce. Please…_

As he landed hard, pitched clear by Sawyer's sudden roll, Kid Flash heard the other boy cry out again. _What did you __do__ to him?_ he raged, leaping up and tackling the man as he reached for something on the table. Wrapping his arms around his throat, he dragged the already dazed and unstable chemist to the floor. The speedster didn't mean for his opponent's head to slam into the concrete quite as sharply as it did, but the sight of his eyes turning into the back of his skull certainly wasn't unwelcome. With that, the fight was over less than fifteen seconds after it began.

He sat for a moment, panting as he stared at the twisted genius he'd just rendered unconscious. "That was crazy," he said shakily. Glancing over, he caught sight of Robin, still curled on his side, teeth sunk into his lip. "Rob, bro, you okay?" he asked, knowing he wasn't but voicing the question anyway as he scooted to his side and rested a hand on his arm.

"N-noooo…" was moaned back. "…Batman…"

_Batman. Flash. They'll know what to do._ He stood, spinning around to face them. "What-" His uncle's wide eyes were full of an urgency that he couldn't decipher."You can't talk?" he guessed after a moment, and received an enthusiastic nod. "…Him, either?" he gestured to Batman. Another affirmative head shake. "Greeeat…"

Footsteps sounded in the hallway. _Oh, no, guards!_ Flying to the door, he slammed it shut and pressed the button on the knob. _Of course, there would only be one measly little lock on it. That will hold them all of two seconds._ Knowing their mentors would be little or no help in their current states, he turned to his friend. "Robin," he dropped back to his knees, shaking him when there was no response. "Rob, answer me." A tiny sigh was all he got. _Damn it. I can't even tell if he's awake, not with those stupid lenses down._ He glanced over his shoulder at the unspeaking – _and unmoving,_ he noted – Batman and made a decision. _He's gonna freaking kill me for this, but at least he probably won't do it in this crap hole. _"Dude, you have to wake up," he begged, shoving the barriers out of the way. _Crap, he passed out or something._ "C'mon, or we're all dead!" he half-shouted as someone slammed their hand into the door and called out for Sawbones.

_Dead…?_ Robin wondered. _Am I dead? Oh, no, Bruce…_ Dragging his eyes open, he blinked, exhausted, at Kid Flash's scared expression. "KF…?" he murmured.

"Rob, Flash and Batman can't do anything," he spoke so fast it was gibberish. "WhatdoIdoIdon'tknowyougottahelpRobc'mon-"

"Stop," he whimpered. "Too fast…"

_I always do this,_ he raged at himself. The door shook in its frame as someone threw themselves against it, trying to pop the lock. He looked over his shoulder at Flash, wanting to hear a calming word from him more than he'd ever wanted anything else short of them all suddenly being transported to the surface, safe and unaffected by any sort of mind control. "Flash," he pleaded. "Say something…"

"Radio," Robin croaked. The redhead's face snapped back around to him.

"What'd you say?"

"Radio…"

Kid Flash squinted about, not understanding entirely but fairly confident that the single word was meant as an instruction. Spotting the black controller some five feet away, he leapt on it. "This?" he clarified.

"Free themaaaah," his advice turned into a pitiful keening as his shoulder erupted in renewed agony.

_Please, please let this work,_ he prayed silently as he lifted the unfamiliar device to his lips. _I don't know what to say, but I have to say something… _Depressing a button on the side that he could only assume made it transmit like a regular walkie-talkie, he opened his mouth as the lock gave way and two armed men tumbled into the room. "Stop!" he hollered in terror, throwing himself over the injured boy with a sob. _Oh god, oh god, ohgodohgodohgod…_

Nothing moved.

When no one snatched him up off of the floor or lashed out at him, Kid Flash lifted his head. Near the door, the guards were frozen, their only movements a slow, rhythmic blinking. Examining the still-chained heroes, he found that not only could Batman still not so much as twitch a finger, Flash, too, was now stilled. "Oh, great, I made it _worse_," he sobbed. "Rob…Rob, what…" But he'd passed out again, and this time he didn't react at all when he was shaken. _Maybe…maybe I can give exact directions,_ he puzzled, realizing he wasn't going to receive any more help. _There's nothing else to try, so…_ "Flash, Batman," he addressed directly, pausing to gulp before he spoke his order. "…Cancel all orders?"

Batman felt his body come back under his control suddenly. His loose hand was still clenched around the chain binding his other arm, and as he focused on Robin's pale, pain-lined visage it was nothing to throw himself forward and pull the restraint free of the wall. His momentum carried him forward and down to floor-level, where he could finally stretch out and grasp his son's ankle. Dragging him close, the cowled man swept the unresponsive child into his arms, cradling him as he whispered his name.

Kid Flash was still getting over seeing the black-clad figure literally tear metal from concrete when Flash's hand landed on his shoulder. "You okay, buddy?" he heard his mentor's worried question.

"…Not really," he said honestly, his voice shaking as the panicked resolve that had been keeping him going crumbled. He leaned over, and felt his uncle pull him into a tight hug.

"Okay," Flash calmed as his protégé's tear-damp face turned into his neck. "It's okay now." _Other than the fact that Batman and I, plus who knows how many other people, are still capable of being mind controlled_ _by anyone with a radio adjusted to transmit on a certain wavelength. Oh, and the fact that Robin's been shot and knocked around._ _But you don't need to hear that right now. _Reminded of the other youth, he looked up. _Batman crying,_ he winced, catching sight of a single tear slipping out from under the cowl._ That's just wonderful. Never thought I'd see that, and quite frankly I really wish I wasn't seeing it now._ "Is he all right?" he asked quickly, alarmed.

"What do you think?" came back roughly. "He needs a doctor."

"I can get him to Mount Justice in two minutes," Flash offered immediately. "…But you'll have to come behind."

_I don't want to be separated from him,_ Batman considered, unfastening his cape and wrapping it around the still form in his arms. _But he's bleeding and unconscious. It will take Leslie who knows how long to get to the cave…_ He brushed a thin tendril of hair away from the shut eyelids that squinched tighter still as pain penetrated the boy's inert state. _I promise I'll be there before you wake up, chum. I swear it._ "…Do you know the way out?"

"No, but it won't take me long to find it."

"…Take him," he breathed.

Kind hands were already sliding around the small body. Glancing at the immobile guards, Flash leaned down close against his own partner's ear. "Wally," he said gently. "Are you coming with me?"

The redhead didn't pull his gaze from his friend's face, nestled against a red-clothed shoulder. He wanted nothing more than to go with his uncle – to never be separated again, if it could be helped – but Robin was so awfully white, dark bruises unfurling under his eyes as he watched. "You can go faster without me," he replied, his voice breaking.

The adult speedster hesitated. "You're sure?"

"…He needs a doctor," Kid Flash echoed Batman. He blinked, and Flash vanished, one of the men by the doorway falling over in his wake.

"…Thank you," he heard a gravelly voice say slowly. "For letting Flash take him."

"Huh? Oh." He shrugged. "I'm no match for his speed. They're probably already there. I wouldn't even be back on the surface."

"…You'll get there." _You did well tonight, from what I saw,_ he didn't add. _Flash should be proud. I know I'm damn proud of Robin…oh, kiddo, I wish I could have gone with you…_

"Yeah," he sighed. "Maybe someday." _…Was that a compliment? Did I just get encouragement from freaking __Batman__?_ he mused. If he hadn't already been a seething mixture of virtually every emotion known to man, he would have been taken aback. As things were, all he managed to be was exhausted. "So…um…what do I-"

"Check Sawyer for keys. I'm still chained."

"…Sawyer? Oh!" he connected the dots. _Sawbones._ Scrambling over, he searched quickly and located a pair of keys in the man's pants pocket. "Do you want me to-"

"Give them to me." Kid Flash handed them over, watching as the vigilante unlocked himself and stood. Stalking a few steps, Batman ripped the chemist upwards and threw him against the wall, smirking when he impacted the cuffs that had held Flash. Opening the manacles only to snap them shut around his wrists and ankles, he considered him. _Be damned glad that you're still unconscious, Sawyer, and that I've got better things to do than check whether or not your head wound will allow you to absorb a few more hits._ "Don't you ever give me a reason to come near you again," he snarled at the slack expression. "I won't forget what I owe you."

_Jeez,_ the young speedster balked as he listened, _he's just as scary even without his cape. _

"…Everyone should be frozen under your order still," he turned to inform the child who had observed his threat. "Do you have the radio?"

"Yes, sir," he held it up, not protesting when it was taken from his fingers.

"All guards are to remain still. All other orders are rescinded." _There. Now no one else has to die. _He turned to the boy. "Do you remember the way out?"

"Uhh…" he blushed violently. "No. There are a lot of tunnels down here. Sorry."

"You," he directed at one of the men blocking the doorway. "Move five feet down the hall, then sit and stay there. Do not move after that. And you," he addressed the second man as the first followed his directions, "put your weapon down." A moment passed as a sub-machine gun was set aside, during which the black-clad figure picked up the half-full syringe from the table and secured it, knowing he would need a sample for testing. "Now, lead us back up to the warehouse. Quickly," he directed. Tucking the device away for later study as they started after the blindly obeying guard, Batman grimaced at the taste giving commands to people under Sawyer's serum left in his mouth.

"…Batman?" Kid Flash asked a few turns later.

"Yes?"

"…Is…is Rob gonna be okay?" The question was anxious, almost desperate, and glancing down at his troubled face the cowled man couldn't help but feel grateful that his son had found such a loyal compatriot. _I shouldn't be surprised,_ he considered. _He's a fair bit like his uncle, and not just in powers. It's still difficult to believe that they aren't blood related…_

"He's much stronger than he looks, Kid Flash," he answered finally. "He'll be fine." _Don't make me a liar, Dick,_ he begged silently._ Please, please don't make me a liar._


	19. Chapter 19

Outside, both of them paused to take a deep breath of the cold night air, a welcome change after the close oxygen available underground. Dropping his eyes from the starless skies, Batman blinked in mild shock. "…What happened out here?" he asked as he took in the dozen bodies scattered about the parking lot.

"Oh, yeah. We got so busy inside I kind of forgot about them," Kid Flash answered darkly, his eyes picking out the two who had turned their guns into one another. "Rob and I took them out. That's why we came back from the car; we saw them pull up and thought they were reinforcements for the guys you were fighting inside."

"…These men are dressed differently. They weren't reinforcements."

"Yeah, that's…that's what Robin said once we were inside and he got a better look at the guards' uniforms."

_Good boy._ He peered at the colors worn by the closest figure. "These are Gremlins,"he ruled quickly. "I'm not surprised, they run a large portion of the local drug trade. I'm sure having their dealers go over to Sawyer was an unpleasant surprise." _The pair of them took out twelve men here, and at least another six inside, without counting Sawyer or any that I didn't witness on the security feeds. That's roughly a man per year of life for each of them, in a single evening. _A quicksilver grin bolted across his lips, gone as fast as it had come. _We're going to have to make sure they work together more in the future. They seem to make a natural team. Once Robin's better… _"Let's go," he tacked on, wanting to get to Mount Justice before his son regained consciousness.

"I could run and you could swing," Kid Flash suggested as they continued on foot. Batman was running, but that was nothing to the boy easily keeping pace beside him. "To the car, I mean."

"No. You stay within my sight." _I do not want to have to explain to Flash that I managed to lose track of his protégé while he was busy conducting mine to safety._

"Okay. Does…does that mean I get to ride?"

"Yes."

_Sweet,_ the cheer slipped in amongst his worry. He felt a little guilty about it until he decided that Robin would understand his excitement; it was the Batmobile, after all. _I wish he'd woken up again, though. He looked really bad when they left._

_I wish he'd woken up again before Flash took him,_ Batman pined as they slipped into the vehicle. _He doesn't even know for sure that we got loose. He did so well tonight…he'll be fine,_ he shook himself roughly, tearing out of the alleyway the moment the redhead was buckled. _He'll be fine. He has to be._ Needing something to take his mind off of his injured and distant child, he pushed the speedometer to eighty, set it to autopilot, and dialed Commissioner Gordon.

"…Batman? What's going on? You never call me directly unless it's big."

"There is a very large shipment of heroin in the warehouse at 1612 Green Street," he replied gruffly. "I've just left there, you shouldn't find any opposition. The drugs are very, very dangerous, Commissioner; they've been treated with a mind-controlling substance developed by Daniel Sawyer, a former Department of Defense researcher who went missing several years ago. You'll find him chained up in a room downstairs."

"Downstairs?"

"He was using the Bridgewater subway station as a base of operations."

"Bridgewater…the line extension that was abandoned after the tunnel collapsed?"

"Yes. The uniformed men inside won't fight; they were all under his control, and have been ordered to remain still. They should be able to be moved, but do _not_ try to make them do so under their own power. If they disobey their orders, even accidentally, they die."

"They _die?!_ My god, how…that doesn't make sense…"

"Brainsplosion," Kid Flash muttered, repeating what Robin had called it earlier. Batman looked over at him, and he flushed, snapping his mouth shut.

"At least one of the men upstairs is dead. Perhaps the coroner can shed some light on exactly how he was killed. There are also a number of members of the Gremlins in the parking lot. They're unconscious, and several of them probably have warrants."

"Two of them are dead," KF whispered.

"What?"

"Two of them are dead. They…they shot each other," he gulped.

"…Did you hear that, Commissioner?"

"Yes…You've had a busy night, Batman."

_They're all busy nights in Gotham,_ he bit back. "I may wish to…talk…to Sawyer later. Assuming he's allowed to remain in your custody."

"I'll let the jail know. Thank you, Batman." There was a click, and then silence.

The lights of the city were falling away rapidly by the time the cowled man called up to the cave. "Sir?" Alfred answered on the first ring. "You're quite a bit later than I expected."

"I'm bringing Kid Flash with me. Flash and Robin are at Mount Justice. We're passing straight through to the Zeta tube."

"…Anything to worry about, sir?" From the tone of his voice he knew there was a problem – he _always_ seemed to know - but Batman saw no reason to deepen the butler's concern when he himself didn't know for certain how serious the situation was.

"I don't think so," he said slowly. _I can lie to anyone, Alfred, but I have the worst time with you._

"Ah. Well, then." He did not sound pleased. "I'll speak with you later, sir."

"Yes. Later." _After I make sure he's all right, you can lecture me all you want to._

"…Who was-" Kid Flash cut off as the gloved hands that had taken back the wheel tightened. "…Never mind." Neither spoke, each lost in his own thoughts. The redhead was just nodding off when he saw a solid cliff face rising in front of the car. "Uhh…!" he warned, sending a wild look towards the driver as they hit the rock. "…Oh. Oh, _whoa_, that was…that was like the third coolest thing ever!" he gaped as they cruised along the rocky passageway.

_Only the third?_ Batman frowned slightly. _Robin at least gave it second, if only for five minutes until I showed him all the things the car can do. _"We'll go straight to Mount Justice when we arrive in the cave," he instructed, choosing not to say anything about the boy's comment.

"Sure," he nodded, understanding his rush to reunite with their respective partners. _Aunt Iris is going to be ticked,_ he gave a mental wince. _But at least I didn't get hurt. She'd probably skin Uncle Barry alive if I had, even with accelerated healing. She doesn't even know we came to Gotham tonight…Is it like this __every__ night here? Makes me glad to live in Central. Gosh, I hope Rob's all right…_

The curves of the tunnel were so familiar that he didn't even have to think to guide the car along them. As they sped along, he enumerated everything he'd seen or sensed wrong with his son during the brief moments he'd held him. _That wound to his shoulder looked the worst. I think the bullet missed the bone, but it was bleeding pretty heavily…I'm surprised he stayed conscious as long as he did, especially once Sawyer started hitting him. _His teeth ground together audibly. _Sawyer__. What I wouldn't like to do to you for ever laying a hand on him…I should have given him a more thorough examination before I handed him off to Flash. I don't even know how hard some of those blows landed…he might have had broken ribs, or worse, and I just sent him away…_

Their arrival in the main cave stifled his line of thought. Stealing a quick look around, he noted that Alfred had taken care to be out of sight for their arrival, as he always did when people who were not aware of Batman's real identity came to call. He strode to the Zeta tube, Kid Flash right behind him, and punched in the proper coordinates. A moment later he stepped out and nearly collided with Wonder Woman.

"Hey!" she protested.

"…I don't have time for this," he said, brushing by as the redhead zipped past him, clearly intent on finding his mentor. Batman let him go.

"Flash took him straight to medical," she advised when the boy had gone.

That got him to pause. "…Did anyone say…?"

She closed the distance between them and touched his arm gently. "He looked bad, Batman, but I heard Superman say he has a strong heart."

"It's true," he growled. _It's practically his dominating characteristic, heart. _

"Then I'm sure he'll be fine."

"…Yeah." He pulled away, stalking towards the door and trying to restrain his desire to run to the infirmary sector. She watched him leave, crossing her arms. _That little one's changed him, _she thought approvingly._ He wears fatherhood well, no matter how hard he might try to hide it._

Superman was leaning against a closed door in medical, blocking it completely as Batman approached and came to a halt. "Move," the cowled man barked, drawing himself up when the Kryptonian didn't budge.

"Calm down," he raised a hand.

"Get out of my way," was snarled back ferally.

"We need to scan your brain for physiological changes from the mind-control serum. Flash said you were injected with it, too."

"After."

"Now," Superman said firmly. "Waiting may make it impossible for us to reverse it."

"So long as we have the only remote," he spat, holding it up, "that's not my primary concern. Now _move!_"

Heaving a long sigh, he uncrossed his legs, pushed away from the door, and stepped leisurely out of the way. Batman plunged past him, disappearing inside only to emerge a moment later. "Something wrong?"

"This isn't fucking funny, Clark. _Where is my son?!_"

"Calm down," he advised again. "He'll be fine. I promise. He's with J'onn still."

"Where?"

"You'll only get in the way right now."

"What-"

"J'onn's trying to get the chunk of concrete he was hit with out of his shoulder," he explained gently. "It was close to a major blood vessel, so it's taking a little longer than usual."

"What about his other injuries?"

"Nasty bruises, that's all. No broken bones, no internal damage. He lost a fair bit of blood, especially for a kid his size, but we've been replacing it since he got here. That's why he was unconscious, was blood loss. From what Flash's told us, you had a pretty rough night. I can just imagine how it must have been for the kids, their first mission going like it did." He paused, smiling. "He said they were amazing."

"…They were." _He's okay. Well, he'll __be__ okay. Superman wouldn't lie to me about something like that, he knows I have access to kryptonite. _ "I want to see him. Now."

"We need to-"

"_After._"

Heaving a sigh, he was about to restate his case for a third time when the Martian stepped out of a room further down the hall. "J'onn, you talk to him," he passed the buck as the third man approached. "He won't let us scan him."

"If we wait much longer, Batman, we may not be able to reverse-"

"He said. I don't care. Where's Robin?"

Sensing his extreme agitation – _unusual, he's normally rather difficult to read, for a human at least – _Martian Manhunter deemed it best not to argue. "He's still unconscious, but if you insist on seeing him before we scan you-"

"I do."

"-then follow me." He lead both of the other heroes back down the corridor, stepping aside as they reached the chamber he'd left the child in when he heard the ruckus outside. Batman moved past him, slamming the door shut in Superman's face as he tried to tag along.

"Such a pleasant fellow," the Kryptonian griped mildly.

"He's very distraught at the moment."

"I noticed."

"…You don't seem surprised."

"Robin's special," he shrugged. "He gets to him in a way nobody else ever has, or likely ever will." _He kind of gets to everyone, actually, myself included._ "And according to Flash he was hurt in the midst of saving them from Daniel Sawyer, so…"

"Batman's unsolved missing person case?"

"Yeah."

"That would be difficult." They were silent for a minute. "The child has awakened." J'onn generally tried not to tune into the thoughts of others unless it was necessary, knowing that it was considered by most humans – especially Batman – to be impolite, if not an outright act of aggression. It had been difficult to ignore the waves of worry pouring off of the dark vigilante since his arrival, however, especially in such close quarters. The fact that the atmosphere had suddenly lightened considerably told him all he needed to know without even checking in on Robin.

"Good." Another pause. "We should go see how that scan's going," he suggested. _Give them some privacy. If Robin's awake, we won't be able to get Batman away from him until he falls back asleep. Maybe not even then._

"Yes. I'm interested to see what changes were made to their brains."

"…That's a little creepy, J'onn," Superman informed him as made their way out of the emotional blast radius. "But, uh…I appreciate your willingness to jump into things."

The Martian felt another reminder was needed. "The longer we go without scanning him, Superman, the less likely it is that we'll be able to reverse any alterations. We'll have Flash's data to work from, but even setting aside any physiological changes that occurred when he became a meta-human, there are the subtle differences between any two brains to account for. What works for Flash may not work for Batman."

The Kryptonian mused for a moment, then sighed. "Leave them be for now," he conceded. "Sure, I could go in there and force him, but I really don't want to."

"Even if-"

"He's happy, isn't he? Just a little, right now?"

Grimacing, he checked. "…Yes," he nodded.

"How often have you felt that from him before?"

"I try not to-"

"I know. But how often?"

"…Never. Not this way, at least. Not…warm." He frowned. "You're right. We should leave them be." _It's been a very long time since I felt two minds so closely connected without even trying,_ he wondered. _Humans rarely achieve such resonance with one another. It is…beautiful. _

Superman's hand clapped down on his shoulder. "Let's go check on Flash and his little speed demon."

"Yes," J'onn pulled himself the last little bit out of the glow. "There's work to be done."


	20. Chapter 20

Batman walked into the narrow, dusky room, his eyes going immediately to the bed. Hearing Superman trying to follow him, he shut the door sharply. _Not now, Clark._ He didn't begrudge the other man an opportunity to check on the boy's condition – although he'd never admit the fact, he was grateful that the Kryptonian had taken such a quick and keen interest in Dick since he'd introduced the two some seven months earlier – but right now he wanted to be alone with him. Stalking forward soundlessly, he moved the chair for visitors out of the way and sat on the edge of the thin hospital mattress, leaning forward over the little body that barely seemed, to his eyes, to barely make a lump under the blankets. _Oh, Dicky. _His mouth quivered, turning down into a frown as he cupped a cool, pallid cheek. _It wasn't supposed to be like this. Not your first real mission. If I had known…_

But he hadn't known, and that was both the point and the problem. Had he known what Sawyer had been working on, or even that Sawyer was involved, it wouldn't have been an issue for Batman alone, or even just Batman and Flash; the entire JLA would have been there. Not even he would have taken a chance with a missing genius chemist turning up half a decade after he vanished, and he sure as hell wouldn't have taken Robin along. Part of him insisted that he couldn't have known, since his informant was under the criminal's control and Sawyer had clearly set the drug transfer up specifically to lure him there. That voice of reasonable excuses was more or less drowned out, however, by everything that was screaming at him to look at what his lack of information had caused: at least three deaths, albeit that they were out of his direct control; potentially permanent physical changes to both his and Flash's brains; and, most importantly, the damaged waif lying so still under his hands. _I couldn't have known. But I should have anyway._

Musing, he checked the needle in Robin's arm to make sure it was taped securely. In line with Martian Manhunter's usual aptitude, it was, saline and replacement blood dripping down to refill drained vessels. _I owe Barry one,_ he noted to himself. _Not just for bringing him here so quickly, but for leading them into that mess to begin with. _His mind on the pair of speedsters, he wondered vaguely if the boy would continue after tonight. _Flash will probably let him, if he wants to_, he decided. After all, Wally hadn't been injured, although judging from his expression when he'd mentioned the two dead Gremlins there were some mental wounds that would need time to heal. He shifted uncomfortably at that, having been so focused on Robin's physical injuries that he hadn't given much thought to psychological ones. _I can't assess those until he wakes up, in any case,_ he allowed.

Indecision clawed at him. _Do I dare let him go on? It was bad enough when he was stabbed, and that was just a few inches along his arm. Tonight…what if that piece of concrete had hit lower? If it had gone through his neck? He'd have been dead before the guards even got him to Sawyer. _Still, there was another factor to be considered; Dick loved their night trips, needed them in the same way Bruce did. It was their way of feeling less helpless in the face of the cruel uncertainties of the world, one of only two methods that the billionaire had ever found that gave him a sense of having a grasp on the reins of social entropy. _But if I lose him…_ He didn't fully understand it yet, but he'd had a sense for several weeks now that losing the child whose narrow, dexterous fingers he was stroking would tear a black hole in his psyche that could devour any and all of the good he'd ever managed to do. It was a horribly morbid thought, not the least because of the terrible event that would trigger such a collapse, but some nights he couldn't keep himself from exploring it.

"…Br-Batman?"

It was a fleeting whisper – his eyes were still closed, and for all the man knew those three syllables had simply been the children of a dream – but it was better than silence. "Hush, Robin," he breathed back, a bolt of joy going through him as he bent in close again. _You're awake. Thank god. _"You're safe. I'm right here. Rest."

"Mmph…" Bleary eyes opened, searching until they found him. "Where are we? You're not…you're not chained up any more."

"We're at Mount Justice." He raised his lenses as he spoke, wanting to truly meet his gaze. "Everything's all right."

"KF and Flash-"

"They're fine, kiddo. You…you were the only one hurt."

"Oh. Good." He paused. "…My arm hurts."

"I know," he squeezed his hand. "You had a piece of concrete in your shoulder. Do you remember what happened?"

"…The guard was shooting…he shot the wall, and…something hit me. I guess the concrete?" He shook his head. "That wasn't part of the plan, though…I was gonna let them catch me…" He trailed off. "Can I see it?"

"See what?"

"The concrete."

Batman twitched. "I think Martian Manhunter probably threw it out already," he advised.

"…Oh." He yawned. "…'M sleepy," he apologized.

"It's okay, chum. You need to rest. You're going to have to fight with Alfred to be allowed out of bed before your stitches come out."

"Stitches?" he asked curiously.

"Mm-hm. You want to look before you go back to sleep?"

"Can we?"

"Sure." Normally he wouldn't pull bandages off of a fresh wound so quickly, but he wanted to check the sutures for himself. "This might hurt a little, so hold still."

"'Kay," he agreed, closing his eyes and turning his head away as Batman pulled the blanket back. He hesitated, then removed his gloves so that he could be certain he was as gentle as possible. Working the tape loose, his gaze flew over the boy's smooth skin regretfully. _It won't look like that for long, not if he continues as Robin,_ he tortured himself. He knew what was waiting in the future; all he had to do to see it was think about the network of scars that had long ago turned his own body into a roadmap. _And he'll look worse quicker,_ he added, _having started so young. Oh, kiddo…maybe if you were a little bit less dear to me I would be able to keep this legacy from you._

"There," he told him, holding the gauze back so that the black lines holding together the red, swollen epidermis were clearly visible. The wound marched over the ridge of his shoulder, ragged where the fragment had entered and smoother towards the back where a small incision had been made to ease the removal process. "…That's going to leave a pretty nasty mark." _Damn it._

"…Eew."

"You want me to cover it back up?"

"Yes, please," he requested, looking away and shutting his eyes again. He didn't speak as familiar fingers pressed the tape down and then ran up along the back of his neck, rubbing slowly. When they reached his hair, he felt his head being turned, and the massage began down the other side and onto his uninjured shoulder. "…Feels nice," he muttered.

"Hush, baby. Go to sleep." The sight of that livid mark had all but made him forget where they were, his focus narrowing down to his son and excluding everything else. _You need to rest. You need to heal. Go to sleep. _"I'll be right here," he promised. _No matter what Superman has to say about it. He wants me scanned that badly, he can figure out a way to bring the MRI machine to me. No one's moving you until I take you home._

"Mmkay…"

His hands continued their work as he listened to his breathing even out into sleep. _There we go, chum. Nice and calm. Good dreams, no nightmares. _A little color, he noted, was coming back into his cheeks, the transfusion nearing its end. Pulling the blanket back up around his neck, he sighed. _My brave little soldier. Your parents named you right, kiddo; you've got the heart of a lion. _

He sat there, keeping one small hand trapped between both of his much larger ones, for some time. Now and again he reached out and touched the child's forehead, searching for fever, or fingered his wrist, anxious to feel the rush and flow of life in his veins. Had a knock not come at the door, he would have stayed there all night, content to merely be at his side.

"Batman?"

_Superman. Of course. _"You're disturbing us," he answered without turning.

The door closed as the Kryptonian entered the room and drew up on the other side of the bed. "…Bruce, he's asleep. How I am disturbing you?"

"You're here. And _don't_ use my name."

"No one can hear. And you're not exactly in full costume," he indicated his bare hands. "We're finished with Flash. It's your turn to be scanned."

"I swore I wouldn't leave him. And I won't."

_I knew you were going to be stubborn, but really?_ _ You've seen him, you've talked to him, you were __happy__ a little while ago. Why can't you just cooperate for once?_ "He won't even know you're-"

"…Batman?" Eyelids fluttered, and Batman leveled a glare at the other hero that would have left most men trembling.

"You woke him up," was growled. Turning to the boy, his tone lightened. "I'm right here, Robin. What is it? Are you in pain?"

"No…well, a little, but it's okay." His head was clearer than it had been earlier, he noticed, and only one of his hands was cold. Catching sight of the blue and red-clad man behind his mentor, he gave him a smile. "Hi, Superman."

"Hey, Robin," he smiled back. "Feeling better?"

"Sure."

"Good." The formalities completed, he decided it wouldn't be _completely_ horrible to enlist the young one in his efforts to get a brain scan. "Do you mind if we borrow Batman for a little while? We need to make sure that serum's not doing anything crazy."

"Oh, you son of a-"

"Doing anything crazy?" Robin's eyes widened, flying back and forth between the two adults. "Like what? It's not making you sick, is it? What about Flash, is he okay?"

"Calm down," the cowled man ordered. "I'm fine. So is Flash. The scan is a formality."

"We found definite physiological alterations in Flash's brain," Superman commented lightly. "Reversible, but there seems to be a time limit."

"Batman, you have to go!"

"I'm _fine_, Robin."

"No!" he half-shouted, surprising all three of them. "What if you stay and then they can't fix it? It could be bad, you know Sawbones didn't care what happened to the people he used! It could kill you!"

"We have the only remote, and we were released from our orders. It won't kill me," he soothed. _Please, please don't cry,_ he begged as he saw wetness rising in his eyes. _You need to relax and rest. _"You're tired, so this all sounds scarier than it really is." _I'm not leaving you until you're home and under Alfred's care._

"Batman…please…" he was whining, something he normally tried to avoid at all costs, but the thought of losing the man he'd expended so much effort that evening to save was too much on top of his injuries. "I don't want you to die, daddy."

The mouth beneath the cowl dropped open at those pitiful words, a first in the halls of Mount Justice. It closed again immediately, but Superman noted the moment.

"Robin…I…" He stared at him, at a loss for words, the frantic emotion in his son's voice making his chest tight.

"_Please,"_ Robin pleaded, trying to sit up to argue in case the refusal went on. He didn't really have the strength to do it, though, and ended up sliding against the mattress uselessly.

"All right!" he capitulated. "I'll go, just stop moving. You're going to hurt yourself." Holding him down gently with one hand, he waited for him to cease struggling. _Jesus, kiddo. Don't tear your stitches out._ "I'll go if you promise to stay here and rest." He received a tear-stained nod as thin arms were raised towards him. Leaning in, he gave him a hug. "Be good," he pressed a kiss to his temple. _He called me daddy. He actually…he actually called me that. _ Not looking at Superman, he got up reluctantly, shoved his hands back into his gloves, and left, only glancing back twice before he reached the door.

"Thanks, Robin," the Kryptonian tipped him a wink as soon as Batman had exited. _Oh, Diana's going to be so upset she missed that 'daddy' line…_

"…Is he gonna be okay?"

"We'll figure it all out," he assured him. "You were a big help. Thank you." He paused. "Are you going to go to sleep again, or would you like me to send Kid Flash down to keep you company?"

"I'd like to see KF," he yawned. _He won't mind if I accidentally fall asleep,_ he thought. _And maybe we can hang out. Who knows when Batman will let us get back together after we disobeyed orders tonight…_

"Okay. But rest, too, huh?"

"Sure I will. I promised Batman." His eyes were already half closed when Superman ruffled his hair, said goodnight, and left.

_I really like that kid,_ the hero thought as he purposefully caught up to the dark figure stomping away down the hall. _Now to just keep his guardian from taking out a court order to keep me from ever talking to him again…_


	21. Chapter 21

"This is the first time he's been injured this badly, isn't it?" Superman guessed, drawing even with the man he knew was still steaming at him.

A grimace appeared below the cowl, confirming his suspicion. "Damn it, you couldn't just leave it alone, could you?"

"I wouldn't have done it if this wasn't important, Batman. I'm sorry."

"Don't _ever_ use my child against me like that again."

_I can't promise that,_ the Kryptonian thought. _Not when it works so well. _"J'onn wanted me to tell you that he doesn't expect any complications," he changed the subject. "No reduced motion, infection, anything like that. I know that probably isn't much comfort when he's lying in a hospital bed, but-"

"No," Batman cut him off. "It…it does help." _I'm exhausted and worried, and the fact that he knew immediately what was going on and how to use him for his own ends is __so__ annoying…_ Still, it was Clark, and as bothersome as the other man could be at times he was still one of a painfully small number of people that he would allow the term 'friend' to occasionally be applied to.

"He looks much better than he did earlier."

"Yeah. He does."

"He'll be fine," he rested a hand on his shoulder. "Really. Better than fine, if what Flash and Kid Flash have been saying is true. From the sound of things, he's quite the little strategist, fighter, and leader, all rolled into one."

"…He's a little reckless sometimes."

"Countering a compliment by pointing out a flaw; _there's_ the Batman we all know and love. You can't hide how proud you are of him from me, though. Remember, I know the real you, and you pretty much gave away the last vestiges of your 'I don't care about anyone' façade the first time I saw you carry him upstairs to bed."

"That was a unique circumstance," he argued as they turned into a large chamber.

"Yeah, I'll bet it only happens about once or twice a week."

"…Shut up and make this fast. I have better things to be doing," he stated, lying down on the MRI table.

"There, Kid, go ahead and ask," Flash nudged his nephew as Superman returned to the control room.

"Superman, can…can I go see Robin? Please?" The boy was all but blurring in his urgency, and the Kryptonian grinned. _I knew they'd get along,_ he laughed to himself.

"Of course. He asked to see you right before I left."

"Thankyou!" he spat out, disappearing for a blink before his mentor caught him by the shoulder at the door.

"Go in quietly, Kid. He might be asleep. If he is, don't wake him up, okay? Let him rest." The elder speedster had fretted across two states, fearing for the light burden in his arms, and hadn't agreed to begin the scan until he knew that he'd been stabilized. The fact that they'd had their asses saved by their protégés tonight had only strengthened his appreciation of the child that he'd already come to like as a good fit for Wally. Watching him be abused had been deeply unpleasant. "It's as good as my head if Batman comes back in and finds you jumping on the bed or something. Your aunt's already got a reservation to decapitate me, I'm sure, so be good."

"I'm not going to disturb him," Kid Flash promised. "I just want to see him."

"I know you do, buddy. Go on," he released him, not surprised in the least when he vanished. "I swear, it's like those two were separated at birth," he muttered as he returned to where Superman and Martian Manhunter were watching the screens. "Since last Saturday, that's all he's talked about. Robin this, Robin that…I've heard about their air duct adventure at least a dozen times."

"I think we forget sometimes how quickly strong bonds can form between people who fight side by side," Superman opined quietly. "We've all worked together long enough, and have enough experience learning to work with new people, that it's just part of the process for us. It's new for them, though."

"They would have been friends even just in the civilian world," Flash nodded. "Maybe not quite this fast, but…"

"Agreed," J'onn concurred. "They have a very firm resonance. Not as strong of one as that of Batman and Robin, but it is not a bond that will be broken lightly."

"Ooooh…yeah, that's a weird thing, right there, with Batman. Adorable, but weird." He paused. "How'd you get him down here, anyway? I figured you'd have to knock him out and drag him."

Clark couldn't resist. "I enlisted Robin in the crusade," he smirked. "Who, completely without any coaching from me, mind you, topped off a rather impassioned argument by telling him he didn't want him to die…and calling him daddy."

"…He _didn't_."

"He did."

"That explains the high activity in these regions," J'onn indicated one of the screens.

"…It looks like he's high on something," Flash commented.

"He is, in a way," Superman shrugged. "It's amazing how one word can trigger that much of a response."

"Well, considering the word…"

"I'm pleased to see him so happy, but it _is_ interfering with my ability to get a clear structural scan," the Martian informed them.

Sighing, Clark reached for the microphone. "Batman. We need you to think about something else. Your blatant joy is screwing with the readings."

"_Wow_, was that an anger spike?" Flash asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Yes. But look, he's toning down the section that was interfering before." A flurry of keystrokes. "I'll be done in just a few more minutes. This one will go faster, now that we know the kind of changes we're looking for."

"How's yours, by the way?" Superman inquired of the other unoccupied man while they waited.

"Brain, or kid?"

"Kid."

His mouth tightened slightly. "A little rough. He said he…well, he'd never seen someone actually die in front of him before tonight. He's having a tough time with that. He said two men accidentally turned their guns on one another when they were trying to hit him, so…"

"That makes it harder."

"Yeah. I guess Robin made him feel a lot better about it, though, right afterwards. That's scary in and of itself, the thought of a nine year old that experienced with death."

"…Well, you know his and Batman's real identities. That should give you a clue as to why. And he works in Gotham, so there's that."

"Yeah. Still, though. Tough kid."

"They both are. Kid Flash will be fine, too. It just takes time. You remember your first."

"Oh, yeah. You never forget that."

"I guess the key is to just be glad that he had a friend there to help him through it."

"Sure. I'm less than ecstatic about the fact that he then had to watch that friend be shot, restrain himself from helping him in accordance with their plan, and see both Batman and I completely unable to so much as wiggle a finger, though."

Superman nodded grimly. "Sounds like a rough night. Does he…have you asked if he wants to continue? Some people don't after a thing like this."

"I asked. He wants to keep trying, he said." His eyes narrowed. "He asked me something, though. Something I couldn't answer."

"What was that?"

"Well…we do a lot of petty crimes at home. You know, muggings, break-ins, vehicle theft. We have our share of murders and other violence, sure, but we're not hitting three or four of those a night or anything. Big conspiracies like this thing with Sawyer are a once a decade deal, at most; Batman seems to have them once a week. After tonight, between the drugs, the gang activity, and the mind control plot, Kid asked me if it's always like that in Gotham. And when I told him it more or less is, which is why I was a little hesitant to take him there, he asked me how they can stand it. And I…I couldn't answer him, because I don't know how they do it."

"It takes a certain kind of person, I think," Superman advised. "Not a better or worse person, just a different one. They're both of that breed."

"Still…Robin's even younger than Kid. I mean, I'm not trying to judge or anything, but…to expose him to that, night after night…I barely even know him, and the thought of that scares me. I don't know how Batman can stand to take him out into that asylum he calls a city."

"…Yeah. But that's part of who they are, Flash; they'll never stop. Once they're in, they're _in_, until the day they die doing their duty." He shook his head. "It's awful, especially when you're talking about a child, but that determination, that bull-headedness, is their greatest strength."

"That's Batman through and through; bull-headed," Flash snorted.

"It's Robin, too; it just isn't as obvious because he's nice about it."

The speedster sighed as they watched Batman climb off the MRI table and stride towards the control room. "Such a strange team, those two."

"I know. But you have to admit; they're also utterly perfect together."

"Well?" the cowled man entered, clearly impatient.

"As we suspected, you also have physical alterations to your brain," J'onn replied seriously. "They are almost identical to those in Flash's, but yours, Batman, appear to be more firmly rooted despite the fact that you were injected at roughly the same time."

"That's weird," Flash broke in. "I thought I would have _less_ time to reverse it. Everything else about me goes faster, so why not this?"

"It may be _because_ everything else about you in accelerated," Batman mused. "The chemicals that gave you your powers affected your brain, we know that. They may have changed it in such a way that it's better able to resist the structural permanence."

"Your faster healing alone could account for it," the Martian added. "If your bodies are treating these modifications as foreign, then Batman would be at a disadvantage compared to you."

"We'll know more once I break down the serum itself," the Gothamite stated.

"Wait…you have a sample?" Superman asked.

"Of course."

"...I should have known that."

"Yes. You should have." He drew himself up. "Are we done here? I'd like to get Robin home and in bed."

"…You're moving him tonight?" J'onn frowned.

"He'll be more comfortable there." _And I'm less likely to be murdered by a certain butler,_ he didn't voice. "…He seemed stable when he was last awake. Is there something I'm not aware of?"

"No. There isn't."

"Good. I'll get back to you with the results from the serum." Turning on his heel, he walked away, eager to get back to his son now that the interminable scan was complete. When Flash popped up beside him in the hallway, he glanced over. "Flash."

"Kid's with Robin," the speedster explained. "I thought I'd come with you and get him. Iris is going to kill me…"

"…I need to ask you something."

"Shoot."

"Are you allowing Kid Flash to continue, after what happened tonight?"

"He wants to, so…I don't really see myself trying to stop him. Next time you invite us to Gotham, though, let's not get mind controlled and have to have the boys rescue us, okay?"

"Agreed." He paused. "If I had known…"

"Yeah, I know," he waved a hand. "You never would have put them in that situation. Things happen. I'm not happy about it, but I don't blame you. Not really, at least."

"…Good." They were silent for a moment. "Thank you for bringing Robin here."

"Any time. Not that I want it to ever be necessary again," he tacked on swiftly. "…But it's going to be, isn't it? Sooner or later, it's going to be."

"I try not to think about it, Flash."

"Sorry." _And if tonight is any indication, he'll just keep going,_ the speedster mused. _You may have only had him a little longer than I've had Wally, but he already takes so many cues from you it's scary._ "…I hope we did the right thing tonight."

"What do you mean?" he shot him a disturbed look.

"With the heroin. We let the cops take it, right?"

"Yes. But I warned the Commissioner about what had been done to it."

"Is he going to be allowed to keep it, though? I would think the Feds would seize it, since it's tied to Sawyer."

_Damn. I didn't think about that. I was in such a hurry to get to Robin…_ "I'll look into it when I get home. Hopefully it doesn't just disappear. Although," he fingered his belt, "we _do_ have the controller. That makes the heroin pretty useless unless they get Sawyer to build a replacement." _Let's just hope that if the Feds do take over they don't decide to move Sawyer and the heroin at the same time._

"I guess that's true. Not much we can do about it right now, in any case." They were drawing up to their destination, and Flash suddenly stopped. "Hey, Batman?"

"…Yeah?"

"I just wanted to say…well, don't take this the wrong way or anything, but…I like you better like this. Robin's good for you. Like tonight; I'm sure you hypothetically _could _have pulled steel from concrete before, but until he was being hurt, you never actually did it. He gives you a different drive, like a…a stronger conviction than you had before. It's nice to see you really…you know…_care_ about someone. I know you probably think it's a weakness, but I think in a way it's a strength." He shrugged. "That's all. I just wanted you to know that."

Batman watched the speedster for a long moment. "…Mm," he said finally, almost half nodding as he looked down at the floor, still pondering. "Okay." _Love as a strength instead of a weakness,_ he mused as he opened the door. _I used to laugh at that idea. Now…I don't know if I can brush it off so easily anymore. Not since Robin._

"Typical Batman response," Flash rolled his eyes and followed him into the room. "So much for the new and improved you cutting anyone over the age of nine a break."

**Author's Note: There may or may not be a new chapter for the next couple of days, as I have guests for the New Year and am also working to finish up a New Year three-shot before the actual holiday. I'll try to post a new chapter before next Wednesday, but no guarantees. As always, thanks for reading!**


	22. Chapter 22

A moment after he left the adults, Kid Flash was outside of the room he'd found Flash waiting at earlier. Seeing that his mentor was okay, he'd asked then if he could visit the other boy, but had been told he was still being worked on. Now, though, there was nothing holding him back. He didn't bother knocking, the elder speedster's warning against disturbing the patient ringing in his ears.

Inside, he tiptoed up to the bed. _Oh, man, you look ridiculously __tiny__ curled up like that,_ he frowned. _I shouldn't have let you be the one to get caught. I should have done it. _He touched his hand cautiously, glad when he found it warm. Fingers twitched, and he withdrew immediately, shifting back and forth on his feet. _Don't wake up, don't, I really want to talk but Uncle Barry said to let you sleep…Ah, crap,_ he moaned to himself as cerulean peeked at him through the younger child's mask. _Oh, hey, your lenses aren't down. _He looked away, well aware that Batman would not be pleased about that fact. "Hey, Rob," he greeted quietly.

"KF…what's wrong?" was whispered back.

His frown deepened. "What do you mean? Does it hurt, do you want me to get someone?"

"No, no, but…you're not looking at me?"

"…Your lenses are up, and I figured I'm not supposed to see that."

_Oh. Huh. Well…_ he considered briefly. "I don't think Batman put his back down before he left with Superman," he disclosed. "So…if he didn't, then he can't really get mad at me for not doing it, right?" _Even if he did tell me to keep them down. Still, that was before anything else happened tonight. Things are different now._

"Are you sure? I don't want to get you in trouble."

"It's cool," he assured.

Gulping, KF turned back towards the bed. "Hey," he repeated himself, grinning as their eyes actually met for the first time.

"Hi," Robin smiled back happily. "…Is Batman getting scanned?" he queried, his expression shifting from open to pinched.

"Yeah, he came in with Superman right as I left to come here."

"Good," he sighed, visibly relaxing. "He didn't want to go, but he needed to."

"…They said that mind control stuff made changes to Flash's brain," the redhead shared unhappily.

Robin nodded. "Superman told me. Batman's probably the same." His mouth trembled slightly. "But…you know…it'll be okay," he said with false confidence, trying to buck himself up along with Kid Flash.

"Sure it will," the speedster agreed half-heartedly. As he spoke he climbed up onto the bed and sat at the edge, legs dangling off. "You don't mind if-" he asked, suddenly aware that he might be being rude.

"Nope," the raven-haired boy cut him off.

"Awesome." They were silent for a few minutes, each thinking his own thoughts. "…I'm really sorry you got hurt, bro."

"It's just how it happened. It wasn't part of the plan, but…it worked."

"Your plan was perfect, except…"

"Except what?" Robin asked, eyes narrowing slightly.

"…Except I should have been the one to get caught," KF shrugged, not wanting to anger the other child by seeming to insult his tactics but also needing to get the guilt that was assaulting him off of his chest.

"That's really nice of you and all, but it would never have been believable that way," he told him. "You can run like a billion miles an hour. The only reason they got Flash was because they gassed the room; just letting someone catch you would have been totally obvious. Who knows what Sawbones would have done if he actually thought we had a plan? No, it had to be me that got caught."

"…Dude, you got shot. That's…that's not cool."

"KF," he shifted his legs under the blanket, "please tell me you aren't sitting there thinking that you should have been the one to get hurt because you're _older_."

_Jeez, what'd you do, read my mind?_ "I…uh…well, I mean, I _am_ older! And bigger! I could have…I dunno…it would have been less dangerous."

"There's no safe way to get shot, dork."

"Yeah, but…"

"'Yeah, but' nothing," Robin countered. "Sometimes I'm going to get hurt. Probably more than you do, because I can't move at your speed. But…I'm okay with that. It's part of the job. Batman told me before we started that I'd get hurt. I don't like it, and I know he doesn't like it either, but…I like the idea of not doing this even less."

"…So you're going to keep your mask?" The thought of stopping, of giving it all up, had been playing at the back of his mind for much of the evening. He'd told Flash that he wanted to keep going with his training, but he was already doubting the truth of his own words.

"Yup. Batman needs me. I…I don't think I would ever give my mask up, KF." _I'd rather be dead, to be honest,_ he didn't think it prudent to say to anyone but himself. "What about you?" he asked, catching sight of the war in the other boy's eyes. "You're not…you're not gonna quit, are you?" _Please don't. Don't quit, KF. You're the only friend I have, and who knows if Batman will ever let me see you outside of night work. Besides, you're really good. You could help so many people…_

"I don't know. I told Flash I wanted to keep trying, but…I keep thinking about those guys, Rob. People _died_ because of our actions tonight."

"…Yeah," he nodded, the reminder of the man who'd died when he pushed the button to reveal the secret entrance to the tunnels stabbing through him. "But…we didn't know. We _couldn't_ have known those things were going to happen. And we tried to save them, remember? It wasn't our fault."

"I know, but I still feel really bad about it!"

"…Me, too," he confessed. "It's not fun. I think…" he wrinkled his nose, "I think we have to concentrate on the good things that we did tonight. It sucks that those guys died, it really, really does, especially the one who was being mind controlled." _The guy __I__ killed,_ he shuddered. "If that hadn't happened, though, we might not have found Batman and Flash. Then Sawbones would have been able to keep going with his plan, _and_ he would have had them under his power. A lot more people might have died in that case. I guess it's…kind of better this way." He wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea, but he spoke it anyway in the hopes that it was what KF needed to hear.

A heavy sigh tore from the redhead. "I can see that," he nodded finally. "But it still sucks. And I'm still upset that you got hurt."

"I'm okay," he promised. "It was just a piece of concrete that broke off the wall, it wasn't an actual bullet."

"Still."

"You wanna see it? The stitches?"

The thought of looking at the aftermath of where so much blood had been coming from his friend just a couple hours earlier turned his stomach. "Ugh…no, dude. I really don't. I'm sure it's cool and all, but…no."

"Okay," he shrugged with his good arm. "So…are you going to stay?"

"…Yeah. I mean, I already told Flash I would, and talking helped a little, so…yeah. I'll stay and keep trying."

"Sweet." He knew he probably shouldn't be trying to move the arm attached to his injured shoulder, but what he wanted to do would have been far too awkward otherwise. Biting his lip as his wound flared, he raised his fist and held it, trembling, out to the other boy.

KF bumped it gently with his own, a brief brushing of knuckles only, desperate not to cause him more pain. The action completed, Robin let his arm fall back down to the mattress, hissing when it landed. "Dude, you okay? I can go get someone, maybe you need more meds."

"It's okay. It feels better already now that I'm not trying to use it." The agony was fading, albeit slower than he would have liked, and the last thing he wanted to do was interrupt Batman's scan. _If he heard KF telling Superman or Flash that I wanted more painkillers, he'd be down here trying to give them to me himself,_ he grimaced mentally. _No way._

"I wish we had a TV or something. It's prime infomercial time." _Something to distract you from it, at least._

"Yeah…" He yawned. "It's okay. I'm kinda just tired." Indeed, his eyes were already slipping shut again.

"…Um…so should I go, or…?"

"Huh-uh," Robin murmured. "You can stay if you want." He peeked up at him through half-open lids. "You tired, too?"

"…Yeah," he admitted. _It's way past my bedtime, even on patrol nights,_ he realized. "But I don't want to bug you."

"You're not." He scooted over a little. "Y'can lay down if you want."

Now that it had been mentioned, KF found that he wanted nothing more than to do exactly what Rob was offering and lay down. "Okay," he nodded, sliding under the blankets and snuggling up close to keep from falling out of the narrow bed. "…This isn't weird for you, is it?"

"No. You're warm," he commented blearily, snuggling against him. "…Doesn't bother _you_, does it?"

Kid Flash wasn't sure for a few seconds. He'd had a couple of half-hearted sleepovers with other children before moving to Central City, but he'd never slept beneath the same blankets as those other boys. _But none of them was Rob,_ he mused. _It's different with him. We're bros. Besides,_ he argued, _he's hurt. He's cold, and I'm warm. So…it's not weird. It's comforting._ With that thought, he carefully draped an arm across the smaller figure. "No," he answered finally. "It doesn't."

"Good…" The word trailed off, and Robin was asleep almost immediately, able to more or less ignore the steady throb in his shoulder through a mixture of exhaustion and the intense warmth the redhead was sharing.

For all that he, too, was tired, it took KF a bit longer to pass out of consciousness. He relaxed quickly as he listened to the younger child's slow, easy breathing, no longer even thinking about the closeness of their quarters. _Rob doesn't care, neither should I,_ he sighed, pulling him a bit nearer as he gave an uncomfortable flinch. _Hope they take a while scanning Batman. I don't want to move…_

It was his last thought for some time.


	23. Chapter 23

Just inside the door, Batman came to an abrupt stop. _Oh, Dicky, I knew I shouldn't have left you. You weren't done being held…_

Flash drew up beside him. "Aaww," he said involuntarily. "Could they be _any_ cuter?"

"I doubt it," the black-clad man had to agree as he studied the pair. He couldn't find it in himself to be displeased with the protective manner in which the older boy had curled around the younger, although a bit of jealousy rose at the fact that someone other than himself was comforting his son. Both children were obviously fast asleep, Robin's hair the only part of him that was really visible between the blankets and the way he had his face buried in Kid Flash's shoulder.

"…I kind of really hate the thought of disturbing them," the adult speedster confided.

_As do I,_ Batman thought. _But I want to get him home. _"I'd prefer to get Robin into his bed at home," he replied. "He'll be more comfortable there."

"He looks pretty comfortable right now," Flash shrugged. "But you're the boss on that front, so…" He paused, but the other man didn't move. "When can we get them together again?"

"That depends mostly on Robin's injuries."

"Well, yeah, but…rough idea? Kid's not going to stop asking me until I can give him some sort of a timeframe."

"…Next week. They can wait in the lounge during our meeting again. _Tentatively_," he added forcefully. "If I feel he's still too weak or is running a fever, I reserve the right to cancel."

"Sure. We'll have to be more, uh, specific on what exactly they're allowed to do."

"Robin will be couch bound, whether he likes it or not."

"And that will keep Kid close by," Flash nodded. _I'll have to remember to have Iris pack him something to eat,_ he made a mental note. _He swipes my Milanos again, we're going to have a problem._ "Sounds like a plan."

"Good." With that, he stalked silently to the bed, then stopped and glanced around, looking for the item Robin had arrived wrapped in. "…Where did my cape go?"

"I think J'onn sent it down to the laundry, along with his costume. Blood," he explained.

"Mm," Batman grimaced. _Blood. Of course. __His__ blood._ "I'm taking the blanket, then."

"Sure." Moving to the opposite side, he attempted to gently rouse his protégé, suspecting that the process would go more smoothly if he got him out of the way so that Robin could just be picked up. "Kid? Hey, buddy, let's go home. Your aunt's going to kill me anyway, let's not go for torture by getting back after daybreak." When he got no answer, he sighed. _Well, I guess I'm carrying you, then._ _Can't really blame you, you had a long night, too._ He tugged at the arm holding the smaller body close, trying to at least separate them, and was surprised when it didn't come easily. "Kid. Let go."

"Mnph!" He pulled him nearer instead.

The two adults exchanged a look. "He doesn't seem too excited to let up, does he?" He shook his head. _I hate waking you up this way, Wally, but I don't particularly want you to smother Robin against your shoulder if I try and pry your arm up again._ Regretfully, he shook him one more time, then pushed the blankets off of him – careful not to disturb where they laid over Robin, knowing exactly what kind of glare he'd receive if he accidentally uncovered the injured child - when all he got was another mumble. There was a moan as the cold air hit the younger speedster, but he still didn't budge. "Huh," he crossed his arms, frowning. "That normally does the trick."

Controlling his mouth rigidly in order to keep a smile off of it, Batman took matters into his own hands. Bending down, he snaked an arm between the two sleeping boys and pulled his own away slowly. Kid Flash's hand scrabbled for a second, but was stilled as a dark gauntlet enveloped it, not unkindly, and held it out of the way. Whining as the narrow form he'd been guarding vanished from his side, the redhead opened his eyes. "Wha-hey!" he exclaimed sleepily before he recognized the person who had stolen his friend. "Oh," he blushed. "Sorry. I thought-"_ I thought someone bad was trying to take him from me. I wasn't going to let that happen._

"It's fine," came from under the cowl, the tone unusually understanding. "Thank you for keeping him company."

"Sure," he answered, nodding as he sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Are you taking him home?"

"Yes." As he spoke he tucked the blanket tightly around the still-sleeping figure cradled in his arms. "Flash. Kid Flash," he glanced at each, then turned to exit.

"But-"

At the door, Batman paused and looked back to where the other child was staring after him. "Well?" he asked when the sentence wasn't continued.

"…When I am gonna see him again?" was queried, a near-pout on the asker's face.

He couldn't quite stop one corner of his mouth from jerking upwards a few millimeters. "Flash and I have already arranged something."

"Really?"

"Really." Then he was gone, taking his load with him, his lips quirking higher once he was out of sight. _You didn't fool around when it came to making a friend, did you, kiddo? If he hadn't recognized me, I get the feeling he'd have jumped me to keep me from taking you_.

"…C'mon, Wally," Flash sighed when they were alone. "Let's get out of here, huh?"

"So when do I get to see him again?"

"Next weekend. _Maybe_," he amended. "It depends on how well he's healing. Okay?"

"Cool," he beamed, a yawn breaking through the middle of it. "…I'm really tired."

"And let me guess, that means you want me to carry you home?"

"…Um, yes? Please?"

"The liberties I let you take," he rolled his eyes mockingly. "You better not start thinking that every time Robin gets a ride home you get one, too."

"You're faster than me," he pointed out for the second time that night.

"And every second counts with your Aunt Iris," he held out his arms, acceding. "Let's go."

"Mmkay," Wally breathed as he was lifted. A moment later, he felt himself being put down. "…Did we just take the tube?"

"Hey, you're not the only one who had a long night, Kid. For once, I just didn't feel like running all the way back here."

"_Barry!"_ They both cringed.

"How'd she know?" Wally asked. "She can't hear the Zeta announcement from outside the room, can she?"

"No, but…she's got a weird sixth sense for when I come home late. Women's intuition, I guess. You should change, zip upstairs, and go _straight_ to bed. Stay out of the war zone."

"Taking one for the team, Uncle Barry?"

"Let's just say you owe me." He thought for a second. "I get to pick out this week's poptart flavor at the store tomorrow."

"Aww, but that's my favorite part of the trip!"

"_Barry! If you don't come out, I'm coming in!"_

"Aaand you can _totally_ have it." In a couple seconds he was changed and had slipped through the door, hollering a 'goodnight' after himself.

Flash grinned weakly at the frazzled looking woman who stepped into view in the doorway. _Note to self; send Iris to see her family the next time we go to Gotham. _"Hi, honey. We're, uh, home!"

* * *

As Batman stepped out of the tube into the cave, the bundle in his arms shifted. "Hush," he bade him, stepping over to the exam table in the medical section and lowering him to it carefully. "We're home, kiddo. It's all right." He had just stripped his cowl off when Alfred appeared at the bottom of the stairs. The butler gave him a quick up and down as he approached, then immediately directed his full attention onto the child.

"Assessment, sir?" he asked, wasting no time as he fingered the boy's cheek and found him sleeping.

"A piece of concrete got blown out of a wall and caught him in the shoulder. It's a high wound, no bone damage," he explained as he changed. "He was hit a few times, as well, but from what I was told and saw for myself he managed to get away from that with just bruises. Martian Manhunter patched him up."

"Ah, yes," Alfred nodded, pulling back the bandage on Dick's shoulder and seeing familiar stitching. "That seems in order, then. When did he last have anything for the pain?"

"Probably right after Flash got him there. Two, three hours ago?"

"We'll wait, then, until he asks for it. No point in giving him something so close afterwards when he's asleep." He removed the gauze completely just as Bruce joined him. "There's a small amount of seepage," he reported, "so I'll change the bandage before we put him to bed."

"Right." As the Englishman retrieved his supplies, the billionaire began to run a hand up and down the thin, exposed arm, hoping to stimulate blood flow to the chilled limb while also fulfilling his need to have some sort of physical contact with his son. _At least you aren't as pale as you were,_ he observed gratefully. _And I think you're actually sleeping instead of unconscious._

"What happened this evening, Master Wayne?" Alfred inquired upon his return.

"Everything went to hell," Bruce breathed back. He recounted a rough version of events, visibly swelling with pride as he recounted what Kid Flash had told him about the Gremlins and what he himself had seen on the security monitors. "Part of me wants to be angry that they didn't come back here and tell you like I instructed them to, but I know that if they had done so things would likely have turned out much worse," he divulged. "Sawyer was going to wipe our memories of everything he'd told us and send us back to our lives as if nothing had happened. We'd never have known we were under mind control until he activated us, and then it would have been too late. By the time they were back here and the rest of the League had been alerted, gotten here, and then made it to the warehouse, it would have been done, and no one the wiser. They saved more than just Flash and I tonight, and I don't have it in me to be mad at them for not following orders after that."

"Ah," the butler nodded, his lips pursed as he applied the last piece of tape and pulled the blanket back up. "So you are still technically under the effects of this substance, if I understand correctly?"

_Damn it, I left that part out on purpose. I swear, Dick must be taking his lessons in reading my mind from you._ "…Yes. I have some testing to do on the serum; we may be able to reverse it." _Don't you dare guess the part about the time limit,_ he swore to himself.

"I can remove the young sir upstairs with no problem if you'd like to get started," he offered.

But Bruce shook his head firmly. "No. I'll take him," he insisted, rising. _He doesn't sleep as well when I'm not the one to tuck him in,_ he recalled as he picked his son up again and left the cave. _He'd never tell you that, Alfred, because he wouldn't want to hurt your feelings, but he's told me more than once. The last thing he needs tonight is a nightmare, and if my taking five minutes to put him to bed prevents one, it's worth it._

In Dick's bedroom, he slipped him into a pair of pajama pants, wincing as he noted several discolored marks where Sawyer had hit his legs. His back was by far the worst in terms of bruising, a panoply of purple, blue and black blossoming along his spine and fanning out across his ribs. _That's going to be so sore,_ Bruce moaned, running a hand along them gently. _I'll have Alfred mix something up to help them dissipate faster. We're just lucky nothing was broken by that asshole…_ Leaving him lying on his uninjured shoulder, he draped the light but warm winter quilt over him, taking away the much scratchier hospital blanket. _There. Safe at home, in your own bed, asleep,_ he sighed, a weight lifting from him as he carded his fingers through tangled dark hair. _The way you should have been hours ago. Curse Sawyer…if I ever get my hands on you…_

Shaking the thought off, he leaned in close and whispered a good night into his ear. "You did so well tonight, chum," he congratulated. "And I promise I'll tell you this again when you're awake, but…I am so proud of you." His lips pressed a soft kiss to his temple. "Don't you ever forget that."


	24. Chapter 24

"You look awful," Superman opined as he leaned against a counter in the cave several hours later. "I thought you might at least take a nap before you started on this."

"You're the one who's all worked up about there being a time limit," Bruce grumbled back, pouring something into a test tube containing a small amount of the serum. "Why are you here, anyway?"

"J'onn would like a sample. He has some tests he wants to run himself."

"…I don't really have enough to spare any." It wasn't a lie; the substance was proving ridiculously difficult to break down, and he wasn't sure he was going to have enough in order to discover its full makeup. Every time he thought he figured something about it out, a new twist, some tiny little change to the molecular structure, would appear. He was starting to wonder if Sawyer had somehow engineered it to not only initiate mind control but also to change character when someone tried to dismantle it. With that in mind he had tried exposing the serum to several standard control fluids, but it hadn't made a difference. _Turn purple,_ he begged silently, staring at the sample he'd just inundated. _C'mon, just __turn__ already! _"Goddamn it," he muttered, placing the stubbornly yellow mixture back into a rack that bristled with his previous failures.

"Progress is slow, I take it?"

"Clark, I've seen a lot of chemicals, some of them very delicate, but I've never encountered anything like this." Sitting back, he shook his head. "Sawyer might be bent on world domination, but there's no denying that he's a genius when it comes to chemistry."

"Hence the problem."

"Right."

"Look, Flash is coming by Mount Justice in a little while to help J'onn try and do exactly what you're doing. Let me take them your notes and what's left of the serum, and they can pick up where you left off. That way you can get some rest. I'll keep you updated on anything they find."

"…I'd rather continue myself," he said shortly. _Sawyer was my case,_ he thought, his sense of territorialism aroused. _I couldn't find him, and as a result he had the time to create this and map out a way to put the entire planet under his control. If anyone is going to crack this thing open, I want it to be me._

"Fresh eyes will really help, Bruce." He sighed. "I get that you want to keep control of it because he was your case, but this is bigger than a missing person now. If we don't find a way to reverse this, and Sawyer or someone else manages to build another control or get their hands on the one we have, we're going to have a serious problem."

"I know," he grimaced. _Trust me, I know. He threatened to make me beat my own child, and then when he decided to do it himself he made it impossible for me to stop him. _He shuddered at the memory of those hard blows raining down. _I do not want him to be able to get control of me, or anyone, like that again. But this is personal. _

"The more people we have working on it-"

"_I know_!"

_God, you are painfully difficult to work with sometimes,_ Superman rolled his eyes. _Usually it's better when you're out of costume, but you're cranky as hell today._ "Fine," he tempered, hoping that changing the subject temporarily might force the other man to let his suggestion sink in and realize it was a good one. "How's Dick?" he asked, legitimately interested.

"…Still asleep."

"I'm not, actually," a small voice called from the cluster of shadows nearest the stairs. Both men turned to stare as he stepped out, a blanket clutched tightly around his narrow shoulders. It would have dragged on the ground behind him had he not draped the tail over his good arm, well aware that there was no chance the whisper of fabric on the floor of the cave wouldn't be heard as he loafed in the background.

"What are you doing up, kiddo?" Bruce breathed. "Come here," he gestured him closer, feeling his forehead when he was within reach. He frowned. _You're kind of warm._ "Where's Alfred?"

"I dunno. I think he might have gone to the store or something. I checked the kitchen and his rooms, but I couldn't find him anywhere." He smiled. "But I knew you'd be down here, so…I came to see you."

"How long were you standing there?"

"Not very long. I didn't want to interrupt you." He hadn't come down with the intention of hiding, but seeing Superman talking to Bruce on the other side of the cave had made him think about the importance of knowing your enemy. _Not that Superman's an __enemy__,_ he'd amended, sinking into a dusky corner and going still, _but it's still good to know exactly what he's capable of._ Curious if the Kryptonian would sense him from some twenty yards away, he'd waited, but there had been no sign of his being noticed. The way they'd both looked at him when he revealed himself was proof that his presence had gone unnoted, but he wanted to be sure. "…Neither of you knew I was there?"

"I didn't," Bruce admitted, torn between pleasure in the boy's demonstrated stealth and ire at the fact that he'd failed to realize that he and Clark weren't alone in the cave.

"Well, you're really tired," Dick gave him an excuse, eyes shining honestly up at him. "Otherwise you'd definitely have heard me."

"Thanks, chum," he smiled. "But you still must have done a pretty good job of sneaking."

"...I guess," he blushed slightly, directing his attention to the floor.

"I didn't sense you, either," Superman told him, dropping down to match the child's height. "And that's pretty impressive."

"Was I out of your range?" he asked slowly. _Can I ask that? Or is it rude to ask about people's powers? I dunno, Batman never mentioned __not__ asking, but he looks kind of surprised that I did…_ He swallowed heavily, and was about to apologize and retract the question when the caped man threw his head back and laughed. "…Um?" he glanced at Bruce, suddenly unsure of himself.

"What's so funny, Clark?" his guardian inquired, looking puzzled.

"Nothing," he recovered, clearing his throat and giving Dick a warm, amused look. "Is that why you hid? You were trying to test how far away I could sense you?"

"Oh…" _Crap. Busted._ "…Yeah," he confessed. "I didn't mean to…you know…do anything wrong."

"Of course you didn't," the Kryptonian grinned. "No offense taken. Besides, I'm pretty sure Batman was constantly doing the exact same thing for about the first year we worked together, so I should be used to it by now."

"You can't prove any such thing, Clark," Bruce said with a mild trace of annoyance in his voice. When Dick glanced at him, though, he slipped him a wink that drew a delighted little titter.

"Since you're curious," Superman drew his attention back, "my range varies. I generally don't have to worry about little ninjas in the shadows when I'm here, so I dampened my hearing. It's not nice to come into people's homes and listen to everything they're doing. If I really wanted to, though, I could hear conversations going on in all but the furthest parts of the house. Outside, with no obstructions to the sound waves, I can hear up to a half mile away. Put me downwind of the noise source and that doubles." He paused, watching as the child filed away everything he'd just said. "…Does that answer your question?"

He chewed his lip for a moment. "Yes," he nodded finally.

"What do you say?" Bruce prompted begrudgingly.

"Huh? Oh! Thank you," he smiled.

"No problem." Rising back to his full stature, he crossed his arms and looked back to the billionaire. "So there's no chance at all of you giving me that serum and getting some rest, then?"

His lips all but disappeared. _He's not wrong,_ he had to admit. _I __am__ tired. And I want to get Dick back to bed, but I'm not comfortable leaving him alone in the house. _"Fine," he ground out, grabbing the tube into which he'd moved the remainder of the raw serum and pouring a little less than half into another container. "They can have this. I'm keeping the rest."

"Thanks, Bruce," Superman said as he took it. "Your notes, too?"

"I need my notes."

"I know you have everything you already did memorized. You don't _really_ need them."

"I-" The retort died on the tip of his tongue as he caught sight of Dick's expression. "What's wrong, chum?" he asked anxiously, wrapping a hand around his arm. _You look like you're not sure what's going on. _"Are you feeling dizzy?" No answer. "Dick?"

"…That one wasn't purple before," the boy said finally.

"…What?"

"That tube. It wasn't purple when I came downstairs." He managed to point towards the counter without dropping his blanket.

"Huh," Superman voiced.

"…I'll be damned," Bruce commented, following his finger. "You're right, it wasn't." He pulled it out of the rack, swished it slightly, and then looked over at the child, who was watching interestedly. _This is the exact reaction I've been searching for,_ he told himself. _It just took much longer than usual to show. I'd given up on it; I might not even have noticed if he hadn't pointed it out. _ Part of him was re-energized by the breakthrough, but there was still Dick to consider."Here, take this too," he shoved the now plum-colored mixture at the Kryptonian. "And my notes. This is the last one I tested. I'll come to Mount Justice later, when Alfred's back, and we'll keep working on it."

"Sounds good. Bye, Dick. Keep him in line, huh?" A giggle at the idea followed him to the Zeta tube.

As soon as they were alone, Bruce stood, stretched, and swept the boy up into his arms. "Alright, you sneaky, observant child," he teased, happy that he seemed so much stronger this afternoon but still wanting him to rest more. "Back to bed."

"…Will you tuck me in?"

"Of course I will." He paused when they'd ascended into the house. "Are you hungry?"

"Not really," he replied, leaning his head against his guardian's neck.

"Does your shoulder hurt? When did you have a pill last?"

"Couple hours ago, when I woke up the first time. I'm okay."

"Okay. Then upstairs we go." He'd expected a bit of an argument once they actually reached the room, but none came; Dick allowed him to rearrange the blankets, looking up at him with wide, silent eyes through the whole process. _I can't go back downstairs and work, _he considered. _I don't want to leave him alone, he'd have to come all the way back down to the cave if he needed something. It's bad enough that he was wandering all over to begin with. I can't believe Alfred went to the store and didn't tell me so I could come upstairs…_

"You could lay down and talk to me," he heard whispered up at him.

"Hmm?" he smoothed his hair back from his face as his train of thought broke off.

"Aren't you tired?"

"A little bit," he admitted. _Was I being that obvious about it? I'm starting to think I lose my touch when you're around, kiddo._

"…So maybe you could take a nap? And…we could talk?"

Bruce's mouth turned down slightly. _Something's up,_ he decided, reading his son's face. _He's not even trying to be subtle about it. Something's obviously bothering him._ "That," he announced, kicking off his shoes, "sounds like a great idea." He lay down on his side, facing him with his head propped on one hand. "So what's going on, chum?" he ventured when they just stared at one another for a few seconds.

The small form beside him heaved a larger sigh than he would have thought physically possible. "…I feel really guilty about something," he confessed, his gaze dropping.

"What is it?"

"Well…I mean, you know some of those guys…they died last night."

"Yes." _Uh-oh. _He'd known this talk had to come eventually, but he had hoped it wouldn't be so very soon in the boy's career as Robin.

"I…I didn't mean to, Bruce, I didn't know it would happen, but…" he trailed off, tears suddenly standing in his eyes.

"It's okay," he soothed. "Tell me what happened."

"I…we woke up one of the guards," he choked out. "And I tried to get him to help me figure out how the control panel, you know, the one for the boat doors, how it worked. And…he wasn't going to tell us, so I started pretending like I was just going to push a random button. And I picked one, and he freaked out and told me not to, but I did anyway 'cause I knew he wouldn't be acting like that if it was just a regular button or something that would get us caught or whatever. That's how we found the stairs down to where Sawbones had you and Flash. But…but he died, Bruce. As soon as I pushed the button he just…he just _died._" His voice dropped to a whisper, his lids closing and pushing a gush of moisture down his cheeks. "I _killed_ him."

"Oh, Dicky," Bruce exhaled, wiping at the wet trails. "No, kiddo, you didn't kill him. I know it feels that way, but I promise, it wasn't your fault."

"I-I know," he nodded sadly. "I mean, that's…that's what I t-told KF, cause he was f-feeling bad about the other two…"

"…The ones who shot each other in the parking lot?"

"Yeah."

"He told me." _He didn't tell me you talked about it, though. _ "So why do you still feel bad, if you were able to give KF such good advice?"

"It's different," he almost hissed, hugging himself under the blanket as if he were cold. "Those two…they pointed their guns at each other on accident, and it was terrible, but it wasn't anyone's fault. Just a mistake. They chose to join a gang, they knew what could happen. But the one I – well, maybe he didn't even do anything _wrong_, Bruce. Maybe he was just some poor guy that Sawbones…grabbed off the street, or who was addicted to heroin or something, and ended up under that serum. And it wasn't even his choice to tell me or not tell me, was it? All he could do was what Sawbones had told him to do, but…but he died because he didn't do it good enough. He died because I pushed that button, even though he told me n-n-_not to…_"

Pulling him in close, Bruce hushed him, feeling his shirtfront dampening with each harsh sob. Mindful not to jar his injured shoulder, he rubbed his back in slow, soft circles. _I wish I could rock you, chum, but I'm afraid I'd hurt you,_ he thought. Eventually the sniffling whimpers quieted, and the billionaire attempted a line of logic that he hoped would help the child in his arms realize the truth of the matter. "What if you _hadn't _pushed that button?" he mused, trying to sound curious rather than inquisitorial.

"…That guy would be alive."

"What else?" he pressed.

"…Sawbones would have had you and Flash under his control."

"Right. And then?"

"That would have been really bad, when he tried to use you. No one would have known what was going on." He coughed. Bruce knew it was likely just an aftereffect of his tears, but the sound made him ache anyway. "I know what you're trying to do," he said when he'd recovered. "I told KF all that stuff, too. It's just so hard to _believe_ it, Bruce!"

"I know. But Dick?" He levered his chin up so that their eyes met. "_It wasn't your fault_. If you can't believe that for logic's sake, then believe it because it's me telling you. He was under Sawyer's control. _Sawyer_ killed him, not you. All you did," he told him softly, "was exactly what Batman would have done in your situation."

"…Really? He would have pushed the button, even if the guy said not to?"

"He would have taken the guard telling him no as even _more_ reason to push it. You did so well last night," he murmured vehemently. "You fought hard, you planned ahead, and you didn't give up. You led, Dick, and you didn't lose your head, even when you were hurt."

"But I cried a lot," he objected. "And I should have been able to help KF more after I was captured."

"No," Bruce insisted. "That will come, kiddo, it will, but you're only nine. You kept pushing to do what needed done more than plenty of adults I've seen. You were damned impressive; everyone who's heard what happened thinks so."

"Even Superman!?"

He managed, through sheer force of will, to keep a scowl off of his face. "Even Superman," he ground out.

"So…you're not mad that we didn't do what you told us to?" He peeked up at him through long eyelashes, looking bashful.

"Yes. But it was necessary in this case. If you hadn't…well. That's not the point. The point is," he told him slowly, "that I have never been more proud of _anyone_ in my entire life than I was of you last night."

The boy's lips trembled even as they slid upwards into one of his special 'Bruce only' smiles. "You promise?"

"I would swear to that in court, Dicky. Without a single qualm." At those words, the small, pointed face dug into his chest, happy grin still lighting it up. When Bruce realized a short while later that the child had fallen asleep like that, buried against him with an infinitely delighted expression, he couldn't help but laugh. _Oh, kiddo,_ he sighed as he held him tightly and closed his eyes to join him. _What did I ever do to deserve you?_


	25. Chapter 25

Alfred peeked into the bedroom and, somehow, wasn't surprised to find two figures in bed. _Very good. He needed to come upstairs and get some rest. I wonder how long he's been asleep? I do hate to wake him if he's only just laid down…_ He snuck around the bed quietly, hoping to check the boy for fever without disturbing either of them. He had to content himself with laying a hand on the back of his neck, as his face was still pressed tightly against Bruce. _Hmm. A bit warm, but it could just be from sleeping, _he mused. _He's due for another pill in an hour or so. I'll check him more thoroughly then._

"…Alfred?" came a quiet speaking of his name.

"Master Wayne," he nodded back, seeing that he was awake despite his attempt at stealth. "No cause for alarm, I was merely trying to get an idea of his temperature."

"He was a little warm earlier."

"As he is now," the butler's forehead creased slightly. "Did you sleep long, sir? There's no rush to get up if you're still tired, I've only just returned and dinner is still several hours away."

Bruce shifted just enough to look at his watch. "I got a couple of hours." _Ugh. I promised I'd go to Mount Justice…I'd rather just lay here with Dick, though. _He knew no one would blame him were he to not show up, but it wasn't in his nature to willfully not do something he'd said he would. "I need to get up." He tried to disentangle himself without jostling his son, but as he pulled away both adults heard a small murmur.

"…daddy…"

_He must have been dreaming of his parents, _Alfred thought with a twinge of sadness. Seeing the billionaire's face, however, he second-guessed himself. "Master Wayne?" he queried, intrigued.

Knowing he was caught, Bruce jerked his head towards the door. _There's no point in talking about it in here, we'll wake him up. He needs more rest._ Once they were safely in the hall, he sighed. "I left out a few details about last night," he admitted.

"I see."

"I mean, he was probably thinking about his father just now," he said in a rush, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck. "But…he _did_ call me that."

"Called you what exactly, sir?" Alfred knew full well, but he wanted to hear it anyway.

"…Daddy. He called me daddy."

"Hmm." No number of years practicing an impassive expression could have kept a broad smile off of his lips at that news. He didn't have to ask how the other man felt about that particular development; the tender expression he'd worn a moment earlier in the bedroom had told him all he needed to know. "Do you intend to allow this to become his regular way of addressing you?"

"I don't know," he answered a bit hesitantly. Part of him stuck by what he'd told Dick shortly after his arrival; he had no intentions of trying to replace John Grayson. The rest of him was still humming happily over those meaningful five letters, and couldn't care less what he may have said in the past. "It's up to him, really. If he wants to, I'm fine with it." _More than fine with it,_ he had to admit to himself. "If he doesn't, that's fine, too. I would never want him to feel like he _had_ to. As much as I might enjoy it if he kept it up," he added under his breath.

"A wise decision, sir," the butler granted his approval. "Even if he chooses to continue using your given name, I have no doubt that he will always think of you as exactly what he called you last night."

"Yeah…" He basked in the thought for a moment longer, then shook himself, remembering what had drawn him upstairs to begin with. "Where were you? He got up and wandered down to the cave." _In bare feet and a blanket,_ he knew better than to add lest the boy be kept in bed an extra week for fear of having caught cold.

Alfred glanced at the door behind which Dick slumbered on, mild concern crinkling around his eyes. "I was finalizing the details of a certain Yuletide purchase," he explained. "Per your instructions. I wouldn't have left without telling you, but I knew you were occupied in a complex task and I believed that the young sir would remain asleep until my return. I assure you, it will not happen again."

_Oh, right,_ Bruce recalled. _The snowmachines. _He had only taken the boy out once on the sled that had been rented to help search when he'd disappeared with Gobblehead before Thanksgiving, but the sheer pleasure that short ride had evoked had been enough to convince him that the manor needed a permanent set. As much as he trusted Alfred, he'd wanted to be a part of the selection process, and had skipped a morning of work to visit a dealership. He'd been worried about finding one that the child could reasonably control, and had all but thrown his credit card at the sales representative who explained that most companies made kid-sized machines. _I can't wait to hear him squeal when he sees it,_ he smirked. _Especially when he realizes that his is a miniature of the one I bought for myself…_

"I took the liberty of procuring helmets for both of you, as well," the butler went on, "as well as a full assemblage of riding gear to keep you warm. I find it difficult to believe that either of you will keep your speed at a safe rate – please, Master Wayne, don't argue, I know you both too well - and even on warm days the wind will be quite chilling. Everything will be delivered tomorrow."

"Can you keep it hidden until Christmas?"

"Of course, sir. It is only twenty four hours, after all."

_Twenty four hours?_ "Wait…is tomorrow Christmas Eve?"

Alfred's eyebrow quirked slightly. "Yes, sir."

_Damn. That snuck up on me._ "And everything else is ready?" he asked, suddenly anxious.

"All of the other items on the rather extensive list you gave me have been wrapped and are merely waiting to be put in place."

"…You say that like you think it's too much," Bruce frowned.

"My concern is merely that his remarkably unselfish head may explode when he realizes how many new things you've purchased him. But then, it is his first Christmas here. I suppose we may as well go completely over the top with it," the Englishman acceded. _It's no larger than the massive holidays your parents once threw for you, so I can hardly cry foul. I was rather pleased to see you really get into the spirit of the thing again, to be fair._

"He deserves nothing less," he stated, his tone brooking no opposition in spite of the fact that he knew none would be forthcoming from Alfred. "Listen, I'm going to Mount Justice. They're still working on the serum there. I'll try to be back before too late."

"Very good, sir. And good luck." _The last thing we need is a mind-controlled Batman. Good lord, what a frightening thing that would be._

In the cave, Bruce changed quickly and headed towards the Zeta tube, pushing his lenses down as he went. A moment later he stepped out several states away and, finding no one in his immediate vicinity, made for the medical lab.

"We were _just_ talking about you," Flash informed him as he walked in.

"Mm." He approached the table that the speedster and the Martian were standing at and frowned at the assortment of vials and tubes. "What have you found?"

"A solution," J'onn replied.

"We think," Flash added. "Thanks for doing the hard part. With your notes about the structural layering and the broken-down sample Superman brought in, we've been able to work pretty fast. What we've got right now will either cure us or kill us."

_That seems like a rather crucial difference,_ he thought wryly. "Is there any way of knowing which it will do before we take it?"

"There are a few more tests to be run," the Martian replied. "If they all go well, we should be able to proceed with the cure as it is now. Otherwise, we'll have to reassess." He paused. "You won't be able to do much to help from here on, unless one of you possesses a knowledge of neurobiology I'm unaware of?" When neither one professed expertise, he went on, trying to kick them out politely. "I will be able to work faster if I don't have to concentrate on filtering out the thoughts of others." It hadn't been so bad when it was just Flash in the room with him, but Batman's normally blank emotional mantle was twitching wildly today, aggravated, J'onn had no doubt, by concern for Robin. It was understandable, of course, but highly distracting.

"…Fine." _I don't want to be here all night._ _Tomorrow's Christmas Eve, and I'll be damned if I don't spend it with my son,_ Batman thought as he turned and left, willing to do so if it meant the work would be completed sooner. _They don't need me; I could have stayed with him, after all. Damn it._

As if he'd heard his thought, the speedster kept pace with him in the hallway and changed the topic to Robin. "How's the mini-Bat?" he jested when they were clear of the lab.

"…What?"

"I don't know, Kid called him that earlier. It fits him; he's you with a better personality and brighter clothes."

Batman wasn't sure whether to glare or gloat at that. "He's recovering."

"…Any, uh, nightmares?"

His eyes narrowed beneath the cowl. _What business is it of yours?_ he wanted to snap. _Unless…_ "Not that I'm aware of. Has Kid Flash had some?"

"Yeeeeah. A couple different ones. We talked about them, but…I don't know, he seems to be carrying a lot of guilt over a couple of guys who he said shot each other in the parking lot?"

"Mm. He mentioned them." His mouth tightened. "Robin said it was Kid Flash's first time seeing someone die."

"It was. And where was I at that crucial moment? Downstairs, under mind control." He gave an angry snort. "…C'mon, I'm starving. Let's hit the kitchen, I haven't eaten in hours."

Batman wanted nothing more than to just return home, but the trace of self-loathing he heard in the other man's voice held him back. _I'm not his counselor,_ he considered. _…But I do owe him for bringing Robin here safely last night. And between the boys and the serum, we __do__ share two things now that none of the others can quite understand. It's logical to reinforce our alliance._ Stifling a sigh, he turned and headed for the lounge, consenting to play psychologist for at least a short while.

"…It's funny," Flash mused as he poked around in the fridge a minute later. "The whole time we talked, Kid kept calling Sawyer 'Sawbones.' He told me that was what all the guards seemed to know him as. Even after I explained who he really is, he kept calling him that nickname."

_Huh. _"…Robin calls him the same thing," he disclosed. "It may be easier for them that way."

"What do you mean?" the speedster asked, sitting down with a box of questionable-looking leftovers.

"We know him as Daniel Sawyer. A man who used to live a more or less normal life. He's not that man anymore; he's no longer a decent person. We're used to seeing that transformation," he ground out, pacing. "We know good people turn bad. It's an accepted fact of our lives. But they're too young for that truth, both of them are. It's easier to think of Sawbones as only a façade." His voice dropped. "It allows them to maintain the vague hope that maybe it's just a mask, after all. That maybe the human being behind it isn't completely lost, could still be salvaged." _Like we are. Well, like I am. I'm a different person in so many important ways when the cowl is off… _He was suddenly incredibly glad that Dick had known him as Bruce Wayne for two months before he met him as Batman.

"…So you think it's…what, preservation of their innocence?"

"What little of it they have left, yes."

"Damn." He chewed, then made a face and pushed the food away. _What little of their innocence they have left,_ he sighed mentally. _What little we haven't stripped them of with all of this, or allowed to be taken from them by putting them in the situations that we do._ "…Do you ever feel guilty about it, Batman? About…about putting them on the line like we do?" He knew better than to expect an answer – he was talking to Gotham's cowled protector, after all – but he needed to get the question out there, as well as the admission that came on its heels. "Because I do. I thought I was taking him out of a bad situation, but…sometimes I think I've just stuck him in a worse one."

Twenty four hours earlier, he wouldn't have favored the inquiry with anything more than a 'shut the hell up' glare, at least when he was in costume. But he'd been asking himself the same thing ever since his first glimpse of the boys on the security cameras, and somehow it was comforting to know that the worry wasn't simply a byproduct of Batman's dark nature. "They can stop any time, Flash," he reminded him. "We're giving them the best protection against the world that we know how to. What more would you suggest that we do?"

"I don't know. Thought maybe you would, to be honest."

"I have very little more experience in this business than you."

"And no one would _ever_ call Batman a natural parent," the seated man joked darkly. "Although you are weirdly good with him." He almost tacked a teasing 'daddy' onto the end of the compliment, but decided at the last moment that he preferred all of his limbs attached.

"…Mm."

"I wish we could just make them all go away, Bruce. Sorry," he added as the other man stiffened at the use of his name. "All the bad ones, though, you know? Let them grow up in a world that doesn't need people like us."

"That's not possible. There will always be more, no matter how many we put away."

"That's my point. We teach them how to protect themselves and each other against the evils that lurk in the dark corners no child should ever see, but where does it end? They'll teach their kids, and again, and again, and there will always be more, like you said. It never ends. There's no rest for the children of vigilantes, I guess, but they're still _children_."

"They're…extraordinary children. It's cruel, yes, but it will make them strong. Stronger than we are. That's the reward."

"…They shouldn't have to be strong. Not on their own. Not yet. And not like this."

"It can't be helped. So…deal," he said a little harshly, Flash's words poking at his own most smothered sentiments. "You can't force him out of it now."

"I know. That's the bitch of it."

"…Yes."

"You know," the speedster ventured when several moments of silence had passed. "I was thinking earlier…well, I'd never _do_ it, but…it would have been so easy to give Sawyer a dose of his own medicine last night. Literally. We could have shot him up and given him an order to be a reasonably law-abiding citizen who never littered, kicked puppies, or tried to take over the world. And he would have done it. There'd be one less monster in the world."

"No. There would be two more."

"What're you saying, Batman, that the ends don't always justify the means?" The question was only half in jest.

"There are some lines I will not cross, Flash. And you wouldn't, either, despite the direction you took this conversation. It's what keeps us from becoming the problem." _Okay,_ he decided. _Therapy time's over. I'm leaving. _He flipped his lenses up and met the other man's surprised eyes just long enough to say a few final words. "…I've found tucking him into bed helps," he shared, his voice sounding forced, as if he were giving away some great and powerful secret under duress. "I don't know if it will work in your situation, with the age difference, but…if he'll let you, give it a try."

_Parenting advice from Batman,_ the seated man shook his head in awe as the last of the black cape disappeared around the corner. _Sawyer didn't tell us that his mind-control serum had wild hallucinations as a side effect. Bastard._


	26. Chapter 26

Bruce was awakened the next morning by a slight shift in his mattress. _It's too early, kiddo. _"You should be in bed," he said, low.

"…I'm in _a_ bed," Dick countered, pausing in his one-armed crawl across the blankets.

The billionaire sighed. "Come here." Cracking his eyelids, he watched him cover the last couple feet. A warm body pressed into his side, dark hair fanning across his shoulder as his boy curled against him. Resting a hand on his forehead, Bruce frowned. "Has Alfred seen you this morning?"

"Nuh-uh."

_Which means you haven't had any painkillers today. _"Do you want a pill?" he asked. "Is that why you came in here, because it was closer than going all the way downstairs?"

"Yes," was nodded against him. His wound _was_ throbbing and sore, but the pursuit of relief for his physical pain wasn't all that had driven him into the master suite. His last dream, from which he'd started into consciousness miraculously scream-free, still lurked at the edges of his thoughts. _Mind-controlled Batman storming around Gotham, breaking things. Killing…killing people…_ He shuddered, and felt the fingers that had moved up into his hair still.

"…Bad dream, too, huh?" came gently as he recalled his conversation with Flash the night before.

"I don't wanna talk about it."

"Okay." He dropped a soft kiss on his head and pulled away, tossing a comforter over the child before he left the bed. "I'll be right back. Stay there."

"Mmkay…"

_Fucking hell,_ he cursed, keeping his feet from stomping down the stairs only because he wasn't in the mood for one of the butler's 'was that truly necessary?' looks so early in the day. _The hole in his shoulder couldn't be enough, could it? No, of course not, now he's having nightmares, too. Not that he didn't have those before, but something makes me think this was a new one. It usually is, when he won't tell me about it._ "Alfred?" he queried at the bottom of the steps.

"In the kitchen, sir," came from the second door down the hall. Bruce followed the voice and turned in to find the butler preparing two bed trays. "I thought you might both be more comfortable taking breakfast in your rooms." He cast a glance at his elder charge, clad only in the boxers he'd been sleeping in, and raised an eyebrow. "Is there something you require, Master Wayne?"

"Dick's awake. He crawled in bed with me a few minutes ago."

"I have his morning pill right here with his food," the Englishman indicated the capsule before he placed a lid over the plate. "…Does he seem terribly uncomfortable?" he asked. "I can bring an extra is you think he needs it. I've cut the dose a little to compensate for his lower-than-average weight."

Bruce shook his head. "I can't tell what's bothering him more, his shoulder or the nightmare he had. He won't tell me about it," he added before Alfred could ask.

"A new one, then?"

"That's my guess."

"Well, sir…" he started, then trailed off.

"Well, what?"

"…I'm afraid there's no general advice I can give you that I haven't already. Although it might help him somewhat if you told him the results of your visit to Mount Justice yesterday evening."

"…I hate to get his hopes up before we know." He'd been about to transport back to the cave the night before when Flash had appeared and told him that J'onn had finished testing. The Martian had waited until after he'd injected both heroes to inform them that they wouldn't know whether or not the cure was a success for another couple of days, drawing a groan from Flash and a deep scowl from Batman.

"Even if the solution doesn't work, sir, informing him of the fact that something's at least been tried may grant him a night or two of more pleasant dreams."

"Yeah," Bruce sighed. "Here, let me take one of those."

"It's not necessary, Master Wayne."

"I'm going back there anyway, Alfred," he rolled his eyes, grabbing the closer tray. They marched up the stairs and into the bedroom, the billionaire setting his load down on a dresser as soon as they entered. "Hey, kiddo?" he ventured. The curled lump in the middle of the bed that he could only assume was his son didn't move as he sat down beside him and pulled the blankets back, searching. "Hey," he repeated softly when he finally uncovered his face, marred only by a deep pout. "What's up?"

The child extracted himself from the bundled covers and curled in his lap, shivering, before he answered. "…Don't feel good," he whispered.

"No, I'll bet you don't," he crooned, feeling the heat pouring off of him. _Wow, your temperature must have started shooting up the second I left. I thought you felt warm a little bit ago, but it was nothing like this._ "Alfred."

"Fever, sir?"

"Nasty one."

"I was afraid that might occur," he said as he approached. "Master Dick? May I look at your shoulder, please?"

"Hurts."

"Yes, I know. That's why I need to look at it. All right?" The boy gave a small sob, but nodded. He undid the bandage quickly, grimacing when he saw the angry color of the wound, and exchanged a glance with his elder charge. "I'll bring up some antibiotics. We should have had him on them from the start," he shook his head. _Poor child, sick like this on Christmas Eve. _

"J'onn didn't expect complications…"

"Still, sir, such things are difficult to predict, especially in one so young." He rose and handed Bruce a glass of water before heading for the door. "Do try and get him to drink something while I'm gone."

"…Okay, chum," he encouraged. "I know you don't feel good, but I need you to have some of this water. It's important."

"'M not thirsty…"

"Have some anyway."

"Tired…"

"I'll tell you what," he decided to deal, "if you can drink half of this water now, and then take the pills Alfred's bringing for you, you can go to sleep and I promise we won't bother you for a little while. How's that sound?"

He was just beginning to fear that the child had passed out when a reply came. "Don't wanna," he cried.

"Hush," Bruce begged. "Hush. C'mon, Dicky, you can manage a little water. I know you can. You did so well the other night; this should be nothing. Just a couple of sips, huh? Be my brave, strong boy and drink just a little something?"

Two words echoed in his fever-riddled brain. _Brave. Strong._ Exactly what he wanted the man holding him to think of him as, and he would, so long as he would just drink something… He opened his eyes and looked cautiously at the glass being offered to him, sniffling. _Bruce wants me to have it. Wants me to be…brave and strong. What'll he think if I don't try? _Swallowing drily, he extended one trembling hand towards the container.

"There we go," he kept a hold on it as he sipped, then suddenly slurped at the liquid as if he'd never tasted anything so delicious in his life. "See, I knew you could do it." He had to pull it away when the fluid level had dropped several inches, not wanting him to take in so much on an empty stomach that it made him sick. "Feel better now?"

"More?"

"In a little bit." Setting the glass on the nightstand, he stood, Dick still in his arms, and carried him into the bathroom. One-handed, the billionaire snagged a washcloth and soaked it in the coldest water the tap could put out, wringing it before beginning to run it up and down the narrow, overheated back and neck. The boy moaned at the first touch of coolness, sinking even further against his guardian as he was transported back to bed. Through the haze he heard Alfred come back in, but it didn't matter. So long as the nice wet cloth kept touching him, whisking away the heat, he didn't care.

"I've brought a fever reducer as well," the butler announced as joined them. Bruce just nodded, not slowing his ministrations until he heard the thermometer the other man had stuck in his son's ear beep. "103. It could be much worse."

"It could be a hell of a lot better, too."

"With any luck, sir, the pills will help."

"Yeah…Dick? Open your eyes for a minute, chum, you've got to take some medicine."

"Nooo…"

Bruce sighed. "It's like he's in and out," he shared. "I got him to drink a fair bit of water while you were gone, but now he's being difficult again."

_Being difficult. Don't be difficult, make it easier for them…_ "…Bruce?"

"Hey, there," he said gently. "Ready to take your medicine?"

His eyes hurt from restrained tears. _No,_ he whined in his head. _I just wanna close my eyes…_ "I won't be…difficult," he murmured instead, staring up at him.

_Oh, baby, I didn't mean for you to hear that. I shouldn't have said it when you were right here. Hell, I shouldn't have said it. _"You're not difficult, you're sick," he amended. "Here, look, here's your pain pill. You can have more water with it, even." The refilled glass appeared, and Bruce smiled as it was reached for.

"Okay." He allowed the capsule to be pushed between his lips, then took several large gulps, continuing until the water was taken from him.

"Slow down," came gentle advice. "If you get sick and throw it up you'll have to take another one. This one's a little bigger, but you need it, too," he held up the antibiotic, which was nearly half again bigger than the analgesic he'd just managed. _I don't even know how that's going to fit down your throat,_ he winced, _but Alfred wouldn't have brought it up if we had anything smaller that would still do the job._ "Can you swallow this one, do you think?" Big, watery blue eyes stared up at him as if he were insane for even suggesting it. "Please? Just try?"

He opened his mouth obediently, felt the pill hit his tongue, and made a face. Then the cup reappeared, and he took as much of its contents as he could. Halfway down, the antibiotic stuck, and he coughed hard, panicking.

"Swallow again, kiddo. C'mon, keep it down." His arms tightened around him as he tried to hack up the medicine trapped in his throat. After a minute the spell eased, Dick slumping back against his chest with a groan. "You did so good," he whispered down into his hair. "That's my good boy."

"No more," he pleaded desperately.

"No more will be necessary for right now, young sir," Alfred informed him. "But I do need to give you this fever reducer. It's a liquid," he added. "Cherry flavored."

"…I like cherries."

"Then this should be quite a bit easier than your other medicine. Open up, please." After hoisting one eyelid to see that it really _was_ liquid he was about to be given, Dick cooperated, downing the admittedly not-too-bad syrup without complaint. "Very good."

"You've got to feel better soon, okay?" Bruce told him. "It's Christmas Eve, and you won't have any fun opening all your presents tomorrow morning if you're sick." _Please don't be sick tomorrow. Your first Christmas with us can't be spent in bed. I want it to be special for you…_ "You want to hear a secret before you go to sleep?"

"Uh huh…" He'd already been gliding off, but he could hold up a second to hear a secret from the man holding him. _Bruce's secrets are always the best,_ he thought dreamily.

"J'onn figured out a cure for the mind control. Now we've just got to wait for it to work." He purposefully left out the fact that they weren't sure it was _going_ to work; he was trying to ease the child's mind, not leave him with something new to worry over.

"Yay…" The cheer was barely above a whisper, but it was plainly glad. Feeling the tenseness in the small body he was cradling ease, Bruce tipped his head back and found a tiny smile on his face. _Okay, kiddo, if you haven't beaten this fever by tomorrow morning, I'll drag it out of you and beat it myself_, he thought fiercely as he laid him down on the mattress. Covering him, he sighed, brushed his hair back from his damp forehead, and then turned and accepted his breakfast tray from Alfred.

"Will you be staying up here for a little while, Master Wayne?"

"Yeah. I can't leave him like this. Besides, it's Christmas Eve; the whole point is that we spend it together." _Even if he is unconscious._

"Shall I bring you something to read?"

A thought struck him. "Actually…you could bring me _A Christmas Carol_. I think he left it out in Gobblehead's shed."

The butler's lips quirked upwards. "A lovely idea, sir. Will you be reading aloud?"

"Yes. We'll start up where he and Gobblehead left off."

"…You weren't anticipating that the turkey join you, I hope, Master Wayne?" he almost winced at the idea of having the bird in the house. Regardless of the creature's unusual intelligence and the favor it had done all of them a few short weeks before, it was still a turkey, and Alfred could just imagine the mess he'd be scrubbing out of the rugs were it to be invited inside.

"No," the billionaire laughed, seeing his face. "But I was kind of hoping that you would."

"I would be delighted, of course, sir," he nodded. _A real Christmas Eve,_ he wondered happily as he left to procure the volume. _Spent in close quarters with one's family, happily partaking in some element of the season together…such a lovely change, and in such a short time. Mind control, infections, and bullies aside, this does seem likely to be a very joyful holiday. I never would have dreamt a single child was capable of so much…_

**Author's Note: This story was originally supposed to be finished by Christmas, but you see how well that worked out. Just a few more chapters to go now!**_  
_


	27. Chapter 27

Dick remained unconscious through the rest of the morning and into the afternoon, forcing Alfred to switch him onto intravenous drugs. The butler advised moving him downstairs, but Bruce, recalling from many hours of experience how uncomfortable the cave's exam tables could be, insisted that he was better off where he was. Holding in his sigh, the Englishman nodded wearily and retrieved a saline drip, hooking the boiling child to it in an attempt to keep him from becoming completely dehydrated.

They finished the last line of Dickens around two, and Alfred removed the breakfast trays – one untouched, the other merely picked at – to the kitchen. Bruce killed time with a nap and a few work reports. Shortly before he expected that his dinner would arrive – there was no reason for Alfred to think he'd be taking it downstairs, that much was certain – he glanced over at his sleeping child with a pensive expression. "I'm going to go take a quick shower, kiddo," he told him, hoping that his words would soak through the fever somehow and keep the boy from panicking if he happened to awaken and find himself alone. "I'll be right back." _If his temperature isn't down by the time I'm done, I'm tempted to run a cool bath and dunk him in it,_ he thought as he passed into the bathroom. _Maybe I should have Alfred call Leslie out if he's not better by morning…Christmas or not, he's sick._

Ten minutes later he was clad in an old pair of slacks and a loose knit sweater, what Dick liked to refer to as his 'grown-up not-work' outfit and Bruce thought of as his 'hell of a lot more comfortable than a suit' clothes. As he wiped the fog from the mirror, he thought he heard a whimper from the other room. _Dick…?_ he stopped to listen. It didn't repeat, though, and after a few seconds of calm he began to straighten out his hair, knowing that it would be impossible to deal with if he let it dry as it was.

He'd just finished with the left side of his head when an outright wail of denial assaulted him. Dropping his comb and bolting back into the bedroom, he found the boy thrashing about, alternately seeming to fight something off and curling in on himself. He reached him just before he tumbled off the edge of the mattress and pulled him back to safety. For all that Bruce had just finished bathing, he was immensely grateful when his palms registered that he was drenched in sweat. _Please have just been the fever breaking, and not a nightmare,_ he hoped as he rolled him back to the middle of the bed.

Alfred had left the aural thermometer, and the billionaire wasted no time inserting it into his ear, holding him still with his free hand to keep him from tossing and hurting himself. _100.6,_ he read to himself. _I'll take that over 103 any day._ "Dick?" he shook him slightly.

"No, _nooo_, stop, please stop…"

He stopped immediately, eyes widening. _Did I cause that?_ "I'm sorry," he whispered. "Chum? Are you awake?" _Did I hurt you, or is this a nightmare?_

"Don't, don't _please_, you have to stop…no more…"

_Nightmare. Has to be. _"Wake up, kiddo. It's a dream, just wake up, c'mon now…"

"_Don't hurt them!_" He pitched violently, pushing his stitches to their limits.

"Dick, wake up," Bruce ordered, dropping his voice to Batman levels on instinct. "Wake up, right now." Bright orbs popped open, darting around manically. _Oh thank god that worked. _"…Dicky?"

"…Bruce?" He focused on him. "You're not…you didn't…you didn't kill anyone, right?" he whispered, gaze horrified.

"Of course I didn't. Not on purpose," he answered, shaking his head.

"And Batman didn't, either?"

"…Is that what your dream was about?"

"It was the mind control," spilled out suddenly. "It was Sawbones. He…he had you, and…he was making Batman do awful things," he revealed, teeth tearing at his lip.

"It's all right. I'm right here. You dreamt about that earlier, too, huh? This morning, when you woke up?"

"Yeah…it's so scary, Bruce."

"It's not going to happen," he assured him, trying to smile. "It's not. We have the remote control – it's downstairs in the cave, right now, where no one can get to it – and Sawyer's going to jail for a long, long time." _Ideally. If the Feds get involved, he might just plain disappear. Who knows? _"And besides, Martian Manhunter created a solution, remember? Do you remember me telling you that, right before you went to sleep?"

His forehead creased. "…I do, but…what if it doesn't work?"

He froze. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you…you said he gave you and Flash the cure."

"Yes. I did."

"But you also said we have to wait for it work. So…what if it doesn't? Won't you be out of time? Won't the changes be forever?"

_Of course, you __would__ have managed to work that out despite everything, wouldn't you? Too smart for your own good sometimes... _"Yes. At least, that's what we think."

"What'll we do if that happens, Bruce? I mean…what if…what if Sawbones gets out, and, and, the _dream_…he could make that real. He could make you do that, all those things I saw…you were _killing_ people!"

"No. It won't happen," he shook his head vehemently. "You've just got to trust Martian Manhunter, all right?"

"But-"

"I trust him, Dick. It'll be all right."

There was no use arguing, and even with a low-grade fever the boy knew it. "Okay," he acceded, not looking convinced in the least.

_Well, so much for telling him about the solution getting rid of his nightmares,_ the billionaire grimaced internally. "How do you feel? Better?" he asked, changing the subject purposefully.

"…A little. I'm all sticky," he frowned ferociously. "Uck."

"It's just from your fever breaking. Good thing, too, it'll be Christmas in a few hours. You're going to have a _ton_ of presents to open," he disclosed with a wink.

"…I am?" he asked, sounding surprised.

"Of course you are. Why would you think you wouldn't?"

"I dunno," Dick mused. "I guess I hadn't really…" he trailed off.

Bruce knew the look that came across his face; he'd worn it himself on various occasions over the past twenty years. "It's different," he whispered understandingly.

"Different," came echoed back in a small voice. "Yeah." He looked up at his guardian. "Sometimes I wonder why you're so nice to me, Bruce. I mean, I _know_, but…I still wonder."

"Because you're amazing, Dick," he answered without even having to think about it.

"_You're_ amazing," he countered. "_Batman's_ amazing. I'm just a kid."

"Yeah? Well, you're _my_ kid. So get used to being completely spoiled."

"I already _am_ spoiled."

"At least you recognize your faults, then." The boy giggled. "…You want to go downstairs and sit by the tree? Maybe eat something?"

"Uck. Food sounds gross. And I'm still kind of tired."

"Okay." It had been worth a try. "Thirsty?"

"No…Bruce?"

"Hmm?"

"…Do you know what I _really_ want for Christmas? Like, more than anything?" He'd been thinking about it since two nights before, and he _knew_ the man beside him wasn't going to be happy with him for asking, but he had to try.

"What?" _And why do I think I already know where this is going? More importantly, why am I kind of okay with it?_

"…I don't want you to be mad at me," he said hesitantly.

"I won't be. You might not like the answer, but I won't be mad at you for asking."

"Um…I was talking to Kid Flash, and…Flash gave him permission to tell me his real name and stuff. I know you said that I couldn't tell him _my_ real name, and I didn't," he said hurriedly, "I promise I didn't, but…well, you and Flash know about each other. And you and Superman. And…and you trust them, right?"

"I do," he answered gravely. "With my life. And with yours." _And that says a hell of a lot more than just trusting them with mine,_ he didn't add.

"Well…that's how I trust KF. And I just thought, after everything…I mean, he was right there, the whole time, and I know we haven't known each other that long or anything, but I trust him, Bruce. He trusts me, too, I know it. So…the one thing I _really_ want for Christmas is to tell him who I am when I'm not Robin." _Please don't be mad, please, please don't be mad at me for asking that. I know you said you wouldn't be, but please don't be mad… _"…Please?"

"Let me get this straight," he said slowly. "You trust Kid Flash with your life – and mine and Alfred's, too, keep that in mind – even though you've only spent a few hours with him? I want you to think before you answer that, Dick."

He thought hard. _He tried to cover for me when we got in trouble for making noise. He had my back on the mission. He comforted me when I kill- when that guard died, and again later on. He stayed with me when I was hurt._ "Yes. I do," he replied finally. "I know I shouldn't trust so easily, but it feels right. And you always say I should pay attention when my gut tries to tell me something."

_Yeah, I do,_ Bruce laughed miserably. _Maybe if I'd paid a little more attention to mine the other night you wouldn't have just spent most of Christmas Eve locked in a fever._

"And he's not really a stranger, right? He's with Flash, and we trust Flash. So…isn't that worth something?"

_Pushing all the right buttons, chum. You've got a knack for that._ "…Let me sleep on it," he conceded. "Don't pout," he directed, seeing it start and knowing what it did to him. "That's tipping the scales unfairly. This is an incredibly important decision, Dick. I want to make absolutely certain that I give you the right answer. Okay?"

"…Okay," he agreed slowly. A yawn followed close on the word's heels, splitting his face before he could cover his mouth. "Sorry," he apologized.

"Just be glad Alfred didn't see that."

"Mm-hmm." He closed his eyes. "Bruce?"

"Yes?"

"…Stay with me?"

"Sure thing. And when you wake up, it'll be Christmas."

"Goody…"

_Goody is right,_ the billionaire – recently some twenty thousand dollars less rich in preparation for the day that was quickly approaching – thought as a short knock came at the door. He raised a finger to his lips as the butler entered, nodding towards the boy, whom he thought had gone to sleep.

"Hi, Alfred," contradicted him.

"…Feeling a little better, are we, young sir?" the Englishman queried as he set down his tray.

"Good enough to add to his Christmas list," Bruce jested.

"A bit late in the game for that, I would think," he quirked an eyebrow at his younger charge, who blushed, abashed. "I'm only teasing you, Master Dick," he chuckled, casting him a twinkling look. "Although I am glad you're on the mend."

"Thanks…me, too."

"I thought you might like to have this nearby," the butler said off-handedly, pulling the lid off of the tray to reveal Bruce's dinner with a side of Dick's favorite stuffed elephant. "I hope I wasn't mistaken…?"

"Elinor," the child mumbled sleepily, a smile growing on his lips. "C'n I have her? Please?"

"Of course," he agreed, tucking the toy securely under his good arm. "Going back to sleep, are you?"

"Mm-hmm…"

"Very well. Good night, then."

"Night, Alfred. Night, Bruce…" And with a tiny sigh, he slept.

"You can just leave it on the dresser, Alfred. I'm sick of sitting down." Swinging carefully off of the bed, he stood and crossed the room, intending to eat on his feet.

"No further…'daddy' moments, sir?" he asked, having noted the use of his elder charge's given name.

"Not yet," he answered quietly. _I'm still listening for it, though._

"Hmm." _A shame,_ he sighed to himself. _Although I cannot blame him for wanting to preserve the memory of the original man who bore that title._

"It's all right."

"…Master Wayne?" he gave him a mild glance.

"It's like you said. Even if he doesn't get into the habit of calling me that, I still know that's how he feels. There are things that I don't say to him, too, but he knows that I feel them. In a way, I'm glad to see him…I guess standing up for his father's right to that name. Defending those who can't defend themselves."

"Quite the legacy, that. For all of the wonderful traits John Grayson took care to instill in him, however, I daresay that one is a more recent addition."

Bruce looked immensely satisfied for the briefest of moments. "Maybe it is, Alfred. Maybe it is."


	28. Chapter 28

"Flash," Bruce rumbled, low, into the secure line in the cave. He hadn't bothered to change into costume – he _would_ go out later, at least for a while, just not yet – but that was no reason to call out of character.

"Uh…hey. Why do I get the feeling you aren't just calling to wish me a merry Christmas?"

_Because you're not an idiot,_ he didn't answer. "Have you given permission for Kid Flash to share his identity with Robin?"

"Oh. Yeah, I did. He hasn't yet, though. Something about not wanting Robin to feel guilty about not being able to return the favor."

"Is that Batman?" an eager tone asked in the background. "Could you ask about Rob? Is he okay?"

"I'll ask. Hurry up, would you? How can we be back in time for Santa to come if you don't get ready?"

"…Really, Uncle Barry? _Santa_?" Bruce could practically hear the boy rolling his eyes. "I'm eleven, not five."

"Okay, okay, cut me a break, huh? I'm trying, here. Just get ready." He turned back to the phone. "Why do you ask? And how's Robin?"

"I'm just verifying information. And he's fine."

"Oh. Good. We still on for next weekend? With the boys?"

"For now, I see no reason to cancel it."

"Great," the other man sounded relieved. "Kid's been driving me up the wall asking about it." He paused. "I tried what you said. It, uh…it does help a little." Another break. "Thank you," the words came, laden with honest appreciation.

"…Yeah." He was about to disconnect, having heard what he needed to, when the speedster added something quickly.

"Hey, Batman?"

"Yeah?"

"Merry Christmas."

Alone in the cave, his lips caught somewhere between a sneer and a smile. "…Same to you."

Leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes, Dick's request was all he could think about. Every time he thought he had a good reason for replying with a no, he remembered the way he and Flash had found their boys two nights before, curled up like a couple of puppies and just as whiny when you tried to separate them. "Damn it," he whispered to the empty cave. _Well, what did you expect?_ he chastised himself. _You didn't want him spending all of his free time with a turkey when he had issues making friends at school – issues that were __not__ his fault – so you introduced him to another JLA protégé. Did you really think they wouldn't want to know each other's real names and spend time together out of costume if they hit it off? What were you planning on doing if they got along, telling them to pretend like the civilian world didn't exist? _

Still, though…it was bad enough that several adults already knew who they were. That had come about purely as a matter of circumstance and necessity, _not_ because he had wanted to share the information with anyone. Batman was a loner by nature, and would have been perfectly happy if no one but Alfred and Leslie knew the various names he went by. _But Dick's not me,_ he reminded. _He was miserable those last couple of weeks before he met Kid Flash. Hell, he kidnapped a turkey and almost got himself killed because the bird was his only friend besides Alfred and I. He needs companionship with someone at his own level, in __and__ out of costume._ _What it comes down to,_ he supposed, _is whether or not I trust Kid Flash with this secret._

"'He was right there, the whole time,'" he muttered, recalling what his son had said a short while ago. And hadn't he himself ruminated on the fact that the young speedster was already proving to be a loyal comrade? The fact that Bruce trusted Barry almost as much as he did Clark – not quite entirely, but more so than he did anyone who wasn't in his house at the moment – probably should have counted for something, too, he pondered, but it didn't. _I have to trust Kid Flash for who he is, not for who's training him. These are our lives in question, _he thought sternly._ …But then, he's already saved them_. _Flash and I were helpless, Robin was hurt…there was no one else to get us out of there. Robin's role in the rescue was huge – Kid Flash likely never would have found us had he been alone from the start – but those last few minutes were almost entirely him. I just wish I knew if he would have done the same thing had his uncle not been chained up beside me…_

He was getting frustrated, torn between the desire to further his son's happiness and the fear that doing so might endanger him physically. Finally capitulating to the fact that he was just staring off into space, he stood and began to change, needing some sort of physical distraction to clear his head. _I'll make it a quick night,_ he swore, not having forgotten that he'd promised to stay with Dick and wanting to make sure he was back upstairs before he woke again. _Just a short circuit of the docks and warehouses, and maybe a partial sweep of downtown. That's __all__._

"Master Wayne?"

"…Yes, Alfred?"

"I have a message from the young master. He wanted to bring it down to you personally, but I insisted he remain in bed."

"He's awake already?" he asked, heart sinking. _So much for keeping my promise. I do this to him a __lot__, don't I? I have got to work harder on that…_ "Did you tell him I was going out?"

The butler looked at him steadily. "It wasn't necessarily for me to do so, Master Wayne. He seemed a little confused when he first noticed your absence, but as soon as he asked the hour he surmised that you were preparing for a patrol. He requested that I tell you good luck, and expressed a rather ardent desire that you use extra caution this evening."

"…He didn't seem upset, did he? That I wasn't there?"

"I wouldn't say upset, sir. A bit sad, perhaps, but I believe he understands that while he can be safely left in my hands, or in those of several others whom you trust, the city can only be properly tended to by one particular figure. He knows he isn't your only obligation; he accepts that. It may pain him a little, but he bears up under it admirably." He waited a moment. "He went back to sleep after relaying his message for you."

"Will you stay with him until I get back?" Bruce requested, feeling guilty but anxious to check up on Gotham. He'd missed last night's patrol, stuck at Mount Justice dealing with the aftermath of Sawyer's serum, and he wasn't going to want to leave the boy tomorrow. There was no telling how well he'd manage the day and the reminders it was sure to bring of years past, and nothing short of a global crisis would keep the billionaire from being home in case he was needed.

"Naturally. I only left him to pass along his words."

Somewhat contented by that, Bruce dropped the cowl over his face. "Thanks, Alfred."

The Englishman nodded. "Master Batman," he addressed as the other man strode to the car.

It was a slow night, a little fresh snow giving the city an uncharacteristically clean look. As he'd hoped, there were relatively few criminals out and about, and once his dark shadow swooped over them they wasted no time in wishing they'd stayed home. Towards the end of his route he came across an electronics store break in; petty garbage, really, but one of the robbers was unfortunate enough to look a bit like Daniel Sawyer and stupid enough to mouth off when he heard the order to cease and desist. Two broken arms later, he swore tearfully to never steal or hit a child again; the fact that he'd never actually laid a hand on a kid wasn't worth arguing about when he took in the snarl being directed at him.

Before returning to the cave, the black-clad man went by the warehouse, wanting to have at least a mental map of the tunnels just in case another villain ever decided to utilize the complex. He'd been in such a hurry to get to Mount Justice after the chemist's takedown that he hadn't stopped to investigate them, but there was no use in putting the chore off. Approaching the building, his eyes narrowed. _Feds,_ he huffed, displeased. The worst moments in the working relationship of Batman and Commissioner Gordon were cherished memories in comparison to the best moments between Batman and the federal authorities. The fact that Sawyer would likely get a much stiffer sentence if tried at a higher level than Gotham wasn't quite enough to erase his desire for the unknowns to get the hell out of his city.

_The one time I might find Superman useful,_ he sighed. _He's the best of us all at kissing ass. Probably the only reason the government still funnels us cases…_ There was no way in hell that the presence of national officials was going to deter him from his plan, even without the Boy Scout, so he swung to the roof and used the same entrance as before. Inside, he crouched in the rafters to get a sense of the situation, completely unbeknownst to the ten or so men below. Only when Jim Gordon emerged from the warehouse room, speaking eagerly with a tall, dark man that he didn't recognize, did Batman drop to ground level. Officers stumbled out of the way as he brushed past them, but he looked neither left nor right until he'd drawn to a stop before the pair that might actually be capable of telling him something of interest.

"Commissioner."

"Batman," Gordon nodded. "This is Ketel Woodward, with Homeland Security. Mr. Woodward…Batman."

"Always a pleasure to meet another cog in the machine of national defense," Woodward greeted drily. To the cowled man's satisfaction, no hand was offered.

"Where's Sawyer?"

"He's being transferred to the federals," Gordon informed him. "Although I really don't see why, Mr. Woodward, when the crimes occurred in Gotham. It's our jurisdiction!"

"Sawyer was a contracted DoD employee, Commissioner, and he took that modified heroin over state lines. It's a federal matter."

"Has his lab been found?" Batman queried.

"No. We've searched all of the tunnels and found nothing other than those dazed guards and a few rooms that seem to be where Sawyer was giving people his concoction. The men you left down there still won't move a muscle. It's very inconvenient for the prison staff, having to…clean up after them. Honestly, Mr. Woodward, take _them_ and leave me Sawyer."

"Sorry, Commissioner," Woodward shrugged. "Not my decision." He turned to the vigilante. "You take out all those guys GCPD had to process the other night?"

"No." _Actually, I took down virtually none of them, _he thought regretfully.

Woodward's eyebrows reached for the ceiling. "So who did?"

"Sawyer didn't tell you?"

"Sawyer's a closed book. He's been silent as the grave."

"Mm." _You'd better hope they don't have anyone who can crack the makeup of the serum you put into that heroin, Sawyer; if they do, you're worthless. If they don't, though…you're invaluable. That's a pretty big gamble to take, unless you're certain no one can break it. Very smart, or very narcissistic. Probably both._

"…Batman?" Gordon pushed.

_Oh, what the hell. The boys took more down than Flash and I combined, they earned the credit. _"Robin and a…his friend from out of town," he answered finally. He understood full well the need for caution in bringing a young partner into their business, and was hesitant to break the news about Kid Flash's existence if the speedsters weren't ready.

"Who's this Robin?" Woodward asked.

"My god, man, you aren't joking, are you?" Gordon gaped, ignoring the agent's question. "_Robin_ had a hand in all of that? That…that skinny little grin-and-a-wisp boy you had with you the other night? _That_ Robin?!"

_Dick's going to love it when I describe your face right now to him, Commissioner,_ he almost smirked. "That Robin, yes."

"…Wait…you're saying a _kid_ knocked out all those men?" the federal man queried.

"Two kids," he corrected.

"There's _another_ child involved now?!" Gordon looked apoplectic.

"Relax," Woodward chuckled, looking mildly impressed. "From what I've heard about the Batman, it's no surprise that his kid's got moves, too. Besides, didn't you hear? The other one was an out of town visitor. If there is another vigilante out there using a minor as a partner, it's not in your jurisdiction. Kinda like Sawyer." He clapped him on the shoulder. "Batman," he gave him an approving glance. "Thanks for the runaway chemist. Or, you know, thank your kid. Whatever's easier for you." With that, he turned and made to exit the building, the men not clad in GCPD uniforms following him automatically.

_Damn it. It's too obvious that he's my son..._ Still, what could he possibly do to counteract that knowledge? It wasn't as if he could make the boy grow up any faster – _even if I could…he's already grown up so much, just in nine months, and I feel like I'm missing it somehow – _and taking away his mask until he aged naturally wasn't an option either. _He'd be miserable if I even suggested that,_ he knew. _He's still insecure for some reason; in costume is the only time that seems to really go away. Putting Robin on hiatus would only hurt him. _Beyond that, he _wanted_ the child out here with him; he hadn't realized just how dark the rooftops of Gotham were until there had been a light by his side. _The whole world is different with him._

"Ah…" Gordon's noise broke into his musings."…Where _is_ Robin this evening?"

"…It's Christmas Eve, Commissioner," Batman answered sharply. "He's where all children should be tonight."

"Awaiting Santa," he nodded. "Although…I suppose he's a little too old for that, isn't he?"

"Mm."

"But as you said, it's Christmas Eve…shouldn't you be home?"

"Shouldn't _you_?" he growled back, well aware that the other man had a child of his own.

"Yes, well…business gets in the way sometimes," he looked away, conscience-stricken.

_Business…_ Yes, business got in the way, sometimes. Too often, really. He could only hope that Alfred's words earlier were true ones, and that Dick understood why he wasn't with him right then. "I came to look at the tunnels," he said abruptly, marching away towards the stairs without another word. _And then I'm going home,_ he told himself rigidly. _I've already missed too much._


	29. Chapter 29

It was too dark in the room to see much, but he heard the boy come flying off of the bed the instant he entered the room. Arms encircled his waist a half second later. "Hey, chum," he murmured. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay," he said unconvincingly, his grip not slackening. Bruce frowned.

"You sure about that?"

"…It's hard to see in here." _It's scary,_ he didn't say. The billionaire got the message anyway.

"Did you tell Alfred? He could have brought your nightlight in," he suggested as he moved to the armchair in the corner and sat. Dick crawled into his lap immediately, curling and burying his head against his shoulder.

"No…I was sleeping when he turned the lights out. I didn't want to make him upset for forgetting that I don't like the dark."

_Such a strange dichotomy,_ the man pondered. _Darkness doesn't faze him in the least out on the streets, but at home, safe in bed, he wants a nightlight._ "…Why are you afraid of the dark, kiddo?" he asked gently. "Robin doesn't mind it."

"…Batman controls the dark," came whispered back. "It can't hurt Robin."

"And that means," Bruce carried on logically, "that it can't hurt you."

"…It's different."

"How?" he rubbed his back.

He struggled to explain. "Robin…Robin's a thing of the night. Like Batman. But…I'm a thing of the day. Like you. So…the dark can hurt us, and the light could hurt them. I mean, not like vampires or something, but…like if the wrong people saw. If they saw too much." He paused, finding a flaw in his argument. "But we can get hurt in the light, too," he mused. "And…and the other day Batman and Robin got hurt in the dark, so…Bruce, I just confused myself."

"It's okay," he laughed gently, suddenly understanding. "Listen." He clicked on a reading lamp, its glow allowing him to see the discombobulation on the child's face. "There's something you have to realize, okay? And this is important."

"Okay."

"Batman and Bruce are the same person. So are Robin and Dick. You know that, but I think maybe you're a little confused about what that _means_. Robin isn't a separate entity; he's part of you, all wrapped up inside with everything else that makes you who you are. Even when you aren't wearing a mask, you're still brave, and smart, and funny, and everything else that comes out full force when you're playing Robin. And Robin is kind, and giving, and bright, and all of the other things that classify Dick. Sure, sometimes you have to hide certain…extremes, but they're still _there_. And you can access them, any time you want to. You just have to practice."

"…That's hard, Bruce."

"I don't understand why you feel that way, kiddo. You cross over all the time, and you don't even realize you're doing it."

"…I do?"

"Sure. Here, give me an example of something Robin is. I'll show you what I mean."

"He's…brave?" he said hopefully.

"Yes. Very much so. But Dick? So are you, even when you're not wearing a mask. If you weren't, would you have stood up to that bully?"

"I was _angry_, though. That's different."

"You knew you'd get in trouble, right? And you knew he might hurt you?"

"Yes…"

"But you defended yourself anyway. Not as Robin, not at night, not in a mask; as Dick, in the middle of the day, on the playground. Why?"

"Because what he said was wrong," he whispered.

"And why does Robin do the same thing at night?"

"…Because people do things that are wrong."

"_Exactly_. And it works the other way, too; for instance, every single woman in my office thinks you're ridiculously sweet." The boy blushed, and Bruce grinned a little. _They're not wrong,_ he didn't speak aloud to avoid embarrassing him further. "The other night, when you talked to Kid Flash to help him feel better about what happened in the parking lot? That was sweet, Dick. I'm sure you weren't thinking consciously about being that way, but you were. It's the same as thing as what I said a minute ago about you being brave for taking on that bully. You just did it. You reached out for that part of yourself and let it flow. But you also kept control on it; you stopped hitting that as…jerk kid once he'd had enough, and you led the way to the next stage of the rescue when Kid Flash could go on. That's a very, very powerful skill, mastering yourself like that, learning to affect how much you feel, and how, at a given moment. You've still got plenty of room to improve, but for your age, you're pretty damn good at it already. You can get good enough to learn how to turn it on and off in the blink of an eye."

"…Is that what you do? When you're Batman?"

"To an extent."

"You're _really _good at it."

"Compared to civilians, yes. But I've met a few true masters, Dick, and they're far better than me."

"So…" he started, clearly thinking hard, "how do I learn how to do that? Can you teach me?"

"Practice, just like with anything. The first step is to be conscious of the flow of emotions, but don't overthink it. Like tonight, with the dark. You were afraid of the dark, why?"

"Because you weren't here."

Something inside of him melted at that, but he pressed on. "Is Robin afraid of the dark?"

"…A little."

"Really?" He peered down at him. "It doesn't show."

He shrugged. "Robin _can't_ be afraid of the dark. He can't go into it with Batman if he's too afraid of it. And-" he broke off. _And Batman needs him. So…_ "So he ignores it," he covered. "He's still afraid, but he has to ignore it to do his job. Maybe…maybe I should try that? Just…pretending like it isn't there?"

"Is that what you do when you're being Robin? Pretend the dark isn't there?"

"No, because you said that's dangerous. You said I have to feel it out and know all the layers of it, so I can see through it."

"Right. _That's_ what you need to do, kiddo. Accept the fear; test its depths. Once you've explored it a little, it will be much easier to conquer and control. Use that method, and I think you'll find that you're a lot less afraid of the dark." _And of other things, too,_ he added silently. _Like being rejected by me. I know that Van Cleave creep hurt your self-esteem, and that kills me, because you have every reason to be confident in yourself and your abilities. We've just got to build that back up…_ The voice in the back of his head that hadn't stopped tearing at the question of whether or not to allow his son to reveal his identity to Kid Flash pointed out that having a friend his own age to encourage him could only help with this issue. He tried to ignore it, not wanting to wade back into that debate just now.

"…Okay. I can try that." He smiled. "Thanks, Bruce."

"You're welcome," he answered. "…I'm sorry I left you. I know I said I wouldn't."

"You were patrolling," the boy yawned. "It's okay."

_No, it really isn't,_ he sighed to himself as he pulled down the light quilt that hung over the back of the chair. _But if you're going to let it go that easily, I'm not going to argue. _"I'm glad you understand, Dick." _I don't do things like that to hurt you. _

"It's just part of who you are…I don't mind. 'Sides, you're here now."

"Sure am, chum," he wrapped the blanket around them both and squeezed him tightly. "Feel better now?"

"Mm-hmm…"

The billionaire had thought he was going to have trouble sleeping – he usually did on Christmas Eve – but with the child curled in his arms the world faded away extraordinarily fast. He woke several hours later to the feeling of a pair of eager and slightly impatient eyes on him. "…What time does the clock say?" he mumbled, knowing what that silent stare was requesting.

"Six-oh-two." Bruce could feel him bouncing slightly, and smiled. "…Can we open presents now?"

"What, you mean you don't want to sleep all day today?" he teased him groggily.

"Nope. That was yesterday."

_Well, he __sounds__ a hell of a lot more normal this morning._ "C'mere," he gestured, holding his hand out. Dick obliged him, leaning forward to rest his forehead against it. "That's much better," he said.

"I _feel_ better," the boy informed him.

"Good. Are you hungry?"

"Yeah. And thirsty." Alfred had removed his saline drip while Batman was out patrolling, and after sleeping without it all night he was parched. "_Really_ thirsty."

"Do you want some water before we go downstairs?" Seeing a nod, he stood, shifted his son back into the chair, and made his way to the bathroom. "I'll be right out with some."

When he emerged a couple minutes later, Alfred had appeared and was helping Dick into a sling. "I thought a restraint might be advisable, sir, to reduce the temptation for him to use his bad arm in opening presents this morning," he explained before the question could be asked.

"Good idea," he agreed, handing over a glass of water. "Here, kiddo." A minute later the cup was given back, drained. "You weren't kidding," he whistled.

"Nope. Is it on, Alfred?"

"You are fully prepared for your assault on the tree, young sir," the butler replied, his voice grave even as his lip twitched at his younger charge's obvious excitement.

"Hooray!" He clambered to his feet, not quite leaping up like usual but certainly more energetic than he had been since the mission. "Bruce?"

"I'm right behind you," he nodded, accepting his robe from Alfred. "Go ahead, we're coming."

Flashing him a broad smile, he took off out of the room. "No running in the house, Master Dick!" He paused just outside the bedroom door and waited with a pout as the adults went back and forth.

"Oh, let him go, Alfred, it's Christmas," Bruce defended.

"Yes, sir, but it won't be a very merry one if he falls and injures himself further. I took advantage of his inert state yesterday afternoon to wax the downstairs floors."

"Dick! Don't run, you heard Alfred," the billionaire appeared in the doorway, looking towards the stairs he assumed he had already vanished down, and nearly slammed into him.

"I'm right here."

"…Oh."

"…Can I go downstairs now? _Please_?"

"Go on. But _don't_ run."

He did as he'd been told, feet scuffing rapidly along the shining wood so there could be no accusation of undue speed, but still managed to beat both adults to the living room by several seconds. Coming into sight of the tree, he froze. He'd dreamt of nothing but what this moment might look like ever since Bruce had told him he would have a massive stack of presents to open. _Ten,_ he'd thought wistfully, _maybe even eleven or twelve_. The biggest Christmas he could ever remember having had been the year before, the first year in several that Haly's had done fairly well and the circus folk had had enough spare cash to splurge a little for the holidays. There had been four packages with his name on them under the little two-foot pine on the trailer's table, and one each exchanged between his mother and father, plus the family gift from Pop Haly and the wooden elephant the old circus director had helped Dick whittle down in secret to give to his parents. It had been a beautiful Christmas morning.

The mounds of gift-wrapped boxes, bags, and beribboned toys before him now, sparkling beneath the lights, made his breath catch in his throat. _Too much,_ was all he could think. _Too, too much._ It was too stark of a contrast to every other Christmas he'd ever known, and while he supposed that should have made it all easier to handle, it did the opposite. The tree – the tree he'd picked and decorated, and thought so perfect at the time – was monstrously big, nothing like the delicate artificial thing that had lorded over every meal eaten in the trailer during the first twenty five days of December. The air was woodsy and spiced, so different from the tangy orange and salt of the warm southern breezes that had washed over their winter camp as long as he could recall. And the _presents_…the gifts under the tree alone would have overfilled the tow-behind in which he'd spent his entire life until nine months earlier, and that was without counting the bulging stockings over the fireplace, one of which he knew was intended for him. _Don't cry,_ he ordered himself sharply. _Don't cry. __Do not__ cry._

"…Dicky?"

The soft voice came from directly behind him, and he could tell without looking that his guardian was kneeling down to his level. He gulped hard, working desperately to hold back his tears as he turned around to face him. _Don't cry, they went to so much trouble, Alfred must have spent __days__ wrapping everything…_ "Bruce," he managed hoarsely, sinking his teeth back into his lip after he'd uttered that single word. He didn't have to say anything else; their eyes met, and it was enough. _Too much. It's so different. So bright. So bright it hurts. It's pretty, so pretty, and they would have loved it, but…but they never…_

_Okay,_ Bruce's gaze flashed back. _Calm down, kiddo, it's okay. You're okay. C'mon, come here, baby, let's go where you don't have to look at it._ He opened his arms, frowning when rather than leaping into them as he normally did the boy merely shuffled to him, stiff and silent.

_I'm sorry,_ he stared at him apologetically right up until the moment his face felt terrycloth and dug in. _I'm so sorry, so, so sorry, I know I'm ruining everything…_

The penitence in his son's gaze all but broke the billionaire. "Alfred," he breathed as he lifted him. "I need to borrow the kitchen."

"Of course, sir," he agreed immediately, shooing them out of the room. _I was afraid that it might be too much,_ he grimaced to himself. He'd caught just a glimpse of the overwrought little pixie face as it had turned, and the sight had been sufficient to make his heart quail. _My poor, precious child. _

It was extremely rare for him to sit down outside of his personal rooms without explicit invitation, with the only exception being the small table in the kitchen where he took his tea and meals. Now, however, he perched on the edge of the sofa and heaved a great sigh. Lost in his thoughts, it took him almost a full minute to realize that not only was he seated, he was _slouching_. Shaking himself, he half-rose, then reconsidered and fell back. The couch gave a slight creak, and he winced, glancing towards the kitchen as he massaged one temple lightly with his fingertips. _Please, Bruce, my boy, make it better for him,_ he begged silently. _I believe you are likely the only person who really can…_


	30. Chapter 30

"Tell me everything, kiddo," the billionaire said softly after several minutes of sobs had elapsed. The only detour he'd made between the living room and the chair they now sat in had been to pour a glass of water, knowing that when everything had been said the boy still mewling faintly in his arms was going to want it. "It's okay. I know," he rocked him. "I know it hurts."

"Bruce…"

"I'm right here. Talk it out, it will help."

"It's…they…_why?_" he moaned.

"I know. It's okay. I'm right here." _The two most important smiles of the day, the ones you expect to greet you when you look up from your presents, though...they aren't. They're gone. Just…gone._ It was likely more than that realization, too, he considered. He at least had always been used to big, extravagant holidays; on top of the reminder that this was Christmas and his parents were still dead, though, Dick was trying to deal with what Bruce had to imagine was something like culture shock. _For all that I wanted to give him everything I could think of, I should have remembered that he has no frame of reference for such grandiose displays, especially when they've got his name on the tag. As if that wasn't bad enough, there are so many other things changing again right now, too,_ he thought. _This was just the straw that broke the camel's back, the same as the Academy testing did the other day… _"Dicky, I want you to tell me about how Christmas used to be for you," he directed quietly. It was an old tactic, something Alfred had made him do many times to reinforce the good memories and make accepting new ones less difficult. "It will help, I promise."

"…Did it help you?" he sniffled.

"Yes."

"…Okay." A few hitching breaths later, he began. "We were always in…in the south, near the water. It was winter camp, 'cause the trailers would have been too cold up north. And…we had this little fake tree that sat on the table. You could barely eat when it was there, because the table was little, too. And mom would make a popcorn and orange peel garland for it…she'd let me hand her the pieces, and last year she…she let me thread them, too, with the needle…" His screwed his eyes shut as a vision of her, a smiling angel leaning against worn but clean paneling as she watched him carefully skewer each white snowball, rose to the front of his mind. "It didn't have lights, just the garland. She'd pull out her box of earrings, and we'd pick out a few pairs to hang like ornaments. It was so pretty…

"And then…and then on Christmas morning I would wake up. And they'd always say it was too early, but I wouldn't want to go back to sleep, so I'd come down from my bed and lay between them. It would be so warm there, with their arms over me…" As if in response to his words, Bruce's tightened around him securely. "Eventually mom would get up, because she always got up first, even when it wasn't Christmas. She'd make coffee, and open the cinnamon rolls, and put them in to bake. We didn't usually buy pre-made stuff like that, because it was expensive, but we always had those cinnamon rolls for Christmas breakfast, and an orange each, because they were right there and so good, Bruce…when she pulled them out – she never burned them, even though the timer on the oven had been broken forever dad said – that was when dad and I would get up."

It was easier as he went, sinking deeper and deeper into the memories, and his words came more smoothly, interrupted by fewer pauses. "We opened our presents while the rolls cooled a little so mom could frost them. She'd crack the window just a little bit so we could smell the ocean, and because the oven always made the air kind of heavy and thick inside. It wasn't supposed to do that, but the part to fix it was really expensive, dad said, so we always had to have a breeze when we used the oven. So, we'd open our presents…" he trailed off, getting stuck again as he pictured the glittering mountains of gifts he'd encountered a bit ago.

"Tell me about that. What did you get?" Bruce encouraged him even as he was wincing inside. _God, I hope he didn't just describe a propane leak. Because that's what it sounded like to me. I can't even imagine literally not being able to afford a part you need to keep your appliances from trying to kill you…_

"…Last year I got a book full of stories, like adventure stories, and my shoes I had when I came here, and my top with the lions painted on it – I think you've seen that, it's upstairs – and a stuffed giraffe to be a friend for Elinor. I had to leave her behind, the lady from Social Services said I could only have one stuffed animal," he said sadly. "Then it was time to eat. Dad would always pretend like he was going to steal the middle roll, because he knew I didn't like the crunchy outside part on the other ones…" Now it was John Grayson that ghosted across the backs of his eyes, reaching over to ruffle his hair, teasing him about something and getting a witty retort from frosting-smeared lips. _Keep going, _he pushed himself._ Bruce's listening._

"Other people would come by during the day, too, and sometimes they'd bring things for us. Pop Haly gave me five whole dollars last year…he said it was because I'd been so good that Santa wanted to make sure I got a reward, but couldn't do it himself because the trailer didn't have a chimney and he was too fat to fit in the door. I don't believe in Santa, and his trailer was the same size as ours, but I didn't want to hurt his feelings and, well…it was _five dollars_. And Tanti Soraya always brought her special cookies that no one else knew how to make…they were so sweet, with sugar and honey on top, and she always brought me an extra one. She would read our fortunes, too, and we got to choose if we wanted her to read our palm or tea leaves or do a card spread. I liked to have her do Tarot on me, because the cards were so pretty…" He gulped. _But she didn't see everything,_ he moaned to himself. _She didn't warn us that it was our last Christmas together. _New moisture fell, soaking into the soft fabric under his cheek.

"And after that?" the man holding him asked when the silence drew out. It was important, Alfred had always told him, to go through the entire memory. You couldn't stop in the middle, no matter how much it hurt, or the method wouldn't work and you'd have to start all over. He knew Dick was crying again, albeit less violently than he had been before they started, but he had to keep going.

"…We would spend the day together. If there was someone who was too sick or old to make the rounds easily, we would go to them and visit for a little while, but mostly we stayed home and people came to us because I was little…Then, at night, we would do like we did at Thanksgiving." He craned his neck and peered up at his guardian. "Do you remember when I told you about that?"

"I do. Everyone under the big top, and Pop Haly's speeches," he nodded. _Of course I remember, kiddo. _

"Yeah…we did the same thing at Christmas, only his speech was shorter. Usually," he wrinkled his nose slightly. "And there was one other thing, too…" he added.

For some reason he sounded far more hesitant about bringing up whatever this last thing was than he had even when he was telling his story between sobs. "What was that?" Bruce whispered, sensing that they were nearing the key to his son's reaction and not wanting to scare him off of whatever it was.

"Right before we went to sleep, we would play a game. Well, it was _kind_ of a game. It was…it was like a wishing game. We went around and said what the one thing was that we would buy as a present for each other if we had all the money in the world. Dad always said he'd buy mom a big, fancy house with someone to clean and cook for her so she could stay up on the trapeze all day…mom was going to buy dad an airplane, so he could fly whenever he wanted. I never knew what to say for dad, because he never seemed to need or want anything but us, but mom…I wanted to buy her a beautiful diamond tiara to wear when she performed. It would have been so perfect…" He struggled, his face twisting in remorse. "What was wrong with that?!"

"Nothing, Dicky. Absolutely nothing was wrong with that."

"Then why is she _gone_? I'll never get to give her a perfect box, like all the ones out there that Alfred wrapped, and see her face when she opens it. Even with all of the money there is, I couldn't buy that. I can never bring them back and…and show them."

"Show them what, chum?"

"Everything. All of this. You."

"…I don't understand," he shook his head, truly confused. "What do I have to do with it?"

He traced the outline of one of the silver-wrought birds embroidered on the arm of the chair, carefully not looking up. "I…I was dreaming last night, and in the dream it was today, it…it was Christmas Day, and I was with them, and we were all alive and happy. Everything went just like it always did, the cinnamon rolls, and the presents, and Tanti Soraya's cookies. Then it was bedtime, and we were saying what we would buy for each other. It was my turn. I was going to say the tiara for mom, because that's what I always say, but…then I remembered. I thought, I don't need to say that, because even though you have more money than practically anyone and could probably buy that diamond tiara if I asked you to, it wouldn't do any good. And I got sad, because there was nothing I could give them, even with all the money in the world. So I asked what they wanted, because I didn't know what to say. Mama just smiled and said all she wanted was to know that I was happy and safe and loved, and dad said that was he wanted, too…And it would be perfect, Bruce. If I could show them the living room, like it is right now…if they could just know _you, _and Alfred…then they'd have what they wanted. But I can't show them anything anymore, because…well. You know. Because."

"Oh, kiddo…" It was the last thing he'd expected to come out of the boy's mouth, and it floored him. _So that's what it was. That was the final straw. You knew what they wanted most of all, the one thing in the world, and you had a way to give it to them…but you still couldn't. _He wiped away the few tears that escaped down his face, blinking hard to hold back the others. "…Thank you," he murmured against his hair.

"Why are you thanking me? I didn't do anything, besides ruin your Christmas morning."

"You didn't ruin _anything_, chum. You…" His tongue was too clumsy for the words to form. _You just told me that you feel happy, and loved, and safe,_ he bit his lip. _And I know you're still not one hundred percent confident about your place here, but hearing you say that…it gives me hope that that moment is coming. Don't you dare ask me what I want now, because that was it, and you just gave it to me. _"…you didn't, I promise." Curious eyes met his, then widened a little.

"I made you cry again," he pouted. "I didn't even almost die this time!"

"It's okay, Dicky," he half-laughed, half-choked. _Jesus, don't remind me of that, not right now. _"…Here, drink this," he handed him the water, searching for something, anything, to distract him as he collected himself. "I know you're thirsty."

He gave him an odd look, but accepted the glass. It was quickly emptied, but Bruce was experienced in the art of cloaking his emotions and finished his task first. "…I'm hungry," the child mentioned, carefully putting the container back on the table.

"Yeah?" He smoothed his hair where it stuck up from being pressed against his lapel for the majority of their conversation. "Do you feel better now?"

"…Yeah. I do." He blinked up at him. "You were right. It helps, talking about it. Even though it hurts, too."

"It's tough like that. But I want you to remember something, okay?"

"What's that?"

"You _never_ have to be alone in that pain. When you need to talk, I want you to tell me. Okay?"

He nodded, smiling gratefully. "Okay."

"…Do you want to try the living room again? It's all right if you don't," he added quickly.

"I think…I think I can do it now," he said, pasting a cautious but determined look on his face. _I just have to be brave. I just have to…what was it Bruce said last night? I just have to learn to control it. Maybe I can channel Robin, just a little bit, just enough to not cry again…_

"If you're sure, then I'll bet we can get Alfred to make us some breakfast while you work on your presents. How's French toast sound? It's not cinnamon rolls, I know, but…" _Alfred would have a damn heart attack if we suggested he bring refrigerated dough into this house, let alone serve it to us as food. _

"…Is French toast what you have every Christmas morning?" The question was voiced quietly, but the words themselves made the billionaire start.

"Yes," he whispered back after a moment. _How in the hell did you guess that?_

"Even before…?"

"Yes."

"Then French toast sounds great."

"You're sure?" he double checked.

"Alfred's French toast is _amazing_," Dick reminded him. "And I don't need cinnamon rolls to be happy, Bruce. Besides…no offense to Alfred, but they just wouldn't taste the same. Plus, he'd probably make me use a fork to eat them, and that takes all the fun out of it."

_There you go, finding that silver lining again,_ he marveled. "You want strawberries on yours?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Good. Me, too." They stood and walked out of the kitchen, drawing up to the doorway of the living room. The boy stopped. "…Kiddo? You okay?" A hand stuck out into the air between them, and he took it gently.

As soon as his fingers were swallowed up, he felt himself calm. "…Yup. I'm good."


	31. Chapter 31

It took about half an hour for Dick to really warm up to the fact that ninety five percent of what was under the tree was for him, but once he was comfortable enough to start tearing into packages he was all smiles and shocked looks. He suddenly owned things that he hadn't even known existed, and kept climbing up on the couch next to Bruce for 'thank you' hugs. The billionaire suspected that at least a couple of the embraces were motivated by the need for surreptitious comforting rather than gratitude, but he wasn't going to complain. Alfred was tackled several times, as well, as he moved back and forth between the living room and the kitchen, bringing in breakfast, refilling drinks, and forcing a round of medicine on the boy.

"I'm sorry, young sir, but you need it," the butler insisted before a single word of protest could be issued. The look of caution that crossed the child's face when he said 'medicine' told him that the difficulty of swallowing the last set of pills had not been forgotten. "Unless you would prefer I give them to you from a needle…?" he proposed, well aware that for Dick the lesser of two evils would always be the one that didn't involve sharp objects.

"…Do I _have_ to take the antibiotic? My fever's gone," he pled from where he was leaning against Bruce's shins, a half-opened gift between his knees.

"Yes, but it may come back if you don't take the full course," Alfred explained. "You need both the painkiller and the antibiotic. There's no way around it, I'm afraid."

"…Alright," he sighed, resigned. The last thing he wanted to do was spend any more of his winter break stuck in bed, especially now that he had so many new things to play with and read, so he capitulated. He choked down the pills without further complaint, merely pulling an awful face when the bigger of the two nearly stuck again, then returned his attention to the slowly dwindling piles of packages. The clock on the mantle was approaching ten by the time he finished and crawled up next to his guardian. "Thank you," he yawned, giving the man an almost-content smile as he laid his head on his knee. "For…you know…everything."

From the look in his eyes, Bruce surmised that he was being thanked for more than just the items currently making the living room look like an impromptu toy store. "You're welcome, chum. But you're not _quite_ done with presents yet."

Dick frowned and glanced around the room as best he could without moving. "Did I miss some? I thought I got them all…"

"Alfred? Would you…?"

"Of course, sir," the butler inclined his head, knowing what he was being asked for. Reaching up carefully so as to not disturb the antique baubles amongst which the last, and smallest, package had been tucked, he withdrew it and handed it over. "Here you are, Master Dick," he said gravely, then stood by, waiting to see his face when he discovered what was inside.

"…Bruce, this is a key," the boy puzzled. "But I can't drive for, like, seven more years."

"Not a car, no. But a snowmachine…"

His mouth dropped open. "You…you mean you…you bought us our own snowmachine?!" A sly little grin slid across his lips at the man's nod. "…Can we drive this one fast, you know, since it's ours and not rented?"

_I just __knew__ that was going to be the first thing that occurred to him,_ Alfred groaned to himself in the corner, already able to imagine the fearsome speeds that his charges would no doubt soon find an excuse to reach. _Thank heavens I didn't scrimp when I purchased their helmets…_

"You are allowed to drive yours no faster than I drive mine," Bruce said firmly. "And no trying to do fancy tricks unless I say it's okay. If I find out you do, I'll take it away. I want you to have fun with it, but be safe, too. Deal?"

"Deal," he agreed immediately. "…Did you just say 'yours' and 'mine?' Are there _two_?"

"Yup," the billionaire's grin suddenly matched his son's. "Normal size for me, kid-size for you."

"That is so cool," the child whispered, eyes shining. He sat up, suddenly re-energized. "Can we-"

"No," both adults said at the same time. Dick glanced between them, a bit startled by the fact that his answer had come in surround sound. "Not until your stitches come out and you show me you have full range of motion in that arm," Bruce explained. _I'm hardly going to let you drive a piece of fast-moving machinery for the first time while you're using a sling. CPS would take you away from me before you could say 'child endangerment.' _He paused. _Well, they'd try, at least. _Seeing his crestfallen look, he relented a little. "If it's not too cold out later this afternoon we'll go for a ride on mine. How about that?" He could all but hear the disgruntled noise Alfred was no doubt holding back at that idea, but so long as he kept their speed down and didn't venture too far off the beaten trail he didn't see any risk in it.

"Yes!" he squeaked, eager again. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

_Note to self, _the man thought amusedly, _forms of transportation apparently make great gifts for him._ An idea struck. _I wonder how Robin would do on a motorcycle…He's a little young still, but once he's allowed to start doing solo work it wouldn't be a bad addition to his arsenal. It suits his style, much more flexible and quick to maneuver than a car. That might make a good birthday present for next year, although I hate the idea of having him learn to ride it in the winter. _"…I have one last thing to give you," he said slowly. He still wasn't one hundred percent comfortable with what he was about to say, but he knew he never would be, at least not until it was demonstrated that he'd made the right decision. _Which, of course, can't occur until I render a verdict,_ he grimaced.

Dick grew very still, staring at him. _KF. Oh, Bruce, really? Are you really, really going to let me tell him? Please say yes. Please, please let that be what you want to give me!_ "Is it…?" he ventured, unable to wait when nothing further was said for several seconds.

Bruce held up a finger, silencing him. "There's another JLA meeting this Saturday," he disclosed. "_If_ your arm is getting better and _if_ you don't have a fever, you can come with me and stay with Kid Flash in the lounge while Flash and I are busy. While you two are alone – and I want you to be _certain_ that you're alone, Dick – you…have my permission to tell him your real name. You may _not_ take off your mask or raise your lenses when you do so. I'm also tasking you with making certain that he understands he is _not_ to _ever_ use it while you're in costume, at Mount Justice, around members of the League, or involved in conversations even touching on Batman, Robin, or anyone else who wears a costume. Those are the terms under which you may tell him who you are." _And I'll be making sure that Flash goes over those same rules with him before any of us leave the mountain Saturday night, _he tacked on in his head.

"…Bruce?" the child whispered, unusually motionless as he stared at him.

"Is there something you don't agree with? I'm not changing the rules, Dick, those are set in stone."

"No, I…thank you," he breathed. "I…that's the one thing I _really_ wanted, Bruce. More than anything in the _world_, almost, and I never thought you'd actually say yes but I had to try and you did and-" He was all beaming smile and happy eyes as he broke off, absorbing what he'd just received permission to do. Unable to contain his joy, he wriggled and bounced, clutching his bad arm to his stomach to keep it from jostling. His guardian had absolutely no choice but to rejoin with a grin of his own, and the snuggle he got a moment later was by far the most heartfelt of the morning.

"…Just be damn careful who you trust, okay, chum?" he ordered in a low voice as he grasped him. _I can't lose you. I can't. Not to anyone._

"Bad word."

"Yeah, I know," he sighed, rolling his eyes.

"That's okay," the boy pulled back and met his gaze. "When you swear I know it's important."

Bruce laughed. "Is that how I give myself away?"

"One way," the child answered honestly.

"…You planning on telling me the other ways?"

"No. I need them so I can do what Superman told me to."

An eyebrow arched. "What exactly did that hulking choir boy tell you to do?" he queried suspiciously.

"He told me to keep you in line. Don't you remember? The other night, in the cave?"

_Oh Christ, just what I wanted to hear. _"Who do you take orders from again, exactly?" he asked crossly.

"You," Dick replied as if he were silly for thinking anything else. "Superman's just trying to make sure that you…you know…stay around to be able to _give_ me orders." _And I'm okay with helping him do that, cause it's part of my job, too. If us working together makes that easier, then…well, I guess we're going to work together on it, then. Besides, I like him. He's nice, and he cares about you, even when you're kinda mean to him._

"…Yeah," the billionaire conceded, sulking a little. _Great, __he__ feels better about things but now __I'm__ the one musing about changes. Kid Flash gets to know who he is behind the mask and Clark gets a Bruce-watch buddy. How many best friends and mentors can one kid juggle?_

"Bruuuce…"

He realized that he'd been staring off into space for several seconds. "Wha-" he turned his head to look at him, and fell silent. There, wreathing his boy's face, was that special smile, the one that only he got. The one that he suddenly understood would never be given to anyone else, not Kid Flash, not Superman, not even Alfred. It was his, and his alone. _Okay, kiddo,_ he surrendered willingly. _You win this round. Go have friends and be popular, just…just don't forget how to smile like that._

"Excuse me, sirs?" the butler interrupted, re-entering the room.

"What's that?" Dick queried, spotting something in his hand.

"This is what was just pushed through the mail slot, Master Dick," he replied, giving his elder charge a covert glance of warning as he handed him the envelope. "It is addressed to Master Wayne, and must be quite important to have been delivered on a holiday." Having seen the return address and the crest of Gotham Academy in the upper left corner, he angled to give the other man a few moments of privacy to open it. _The last thing we want to do is tell the boy today if it's bad news,_ he fretted. _He's already had a difficult morning, after all._ "Would you like to come and have cookies in the kitchen now that you've finished with your gifts, young sir?" he tried to lure him away.

"Wait," Bruce said, flipping the item over and catching sight of the embossed mark. "Let him stay, Alfred." _I know what you were thinking, but it's better he know. Then he can stop worrying about what they'll decide, and it will be one thing off of his list of concerns. Opening it secretly won't do anything but make it harder for me to tell him. At least like this we find out together._

"Is that…" Dick swallowed heavily, attention riveted. He hadn't even heard Alfred's offer of cookies.

"Yes, it is. Listen to me, chum," he bent in towards him. "No matter what this says, it's okay, all right?"

"…Sure."

He could have waited for Alfred to bring him his letter opener, but it was too cruel to draw out the suspense. Instead, he slipped a finger under the flap and broke through the gummed seal rapidly. _Please, please don't be idiots,_ he hoped as he pulled out several sheets of correspondence stock and unfolded them. _Of course, if you're stupid enough not to take him then I don't think I'd have wanted you to, anyway…still, he needs an ego boost right now. Don't make things worse for him, not when he's just starting to come up off the bottom of this funk he's been in…_ Brows drawn down, he read quickly. "Well, Dicky," he started as he finished the third sentence, "…you're a sixth grader."

The tension that had been mounting in the room evaporated instantaneously. "…I…I got in?" his voice warbled as he double checked.

"You did more than get in," Bruce disclosed as he studied the columns of numbers at the bottom of the page. "…You scored at or above the eightieth percentile in every single academic subject you were tested on." _I shouldn't be surprised, but…holy shit, kiddo. _

"…Eightieth? That's…that's nice," Dick said uncertainly. _Eightieth is barely even a B! Why would they take me with scores like that?_

"I don't think you understand," the billionaire clarified, seeing his confusion. "You scored higher than at least eighty percent of sixth graders who took these same tests. You did better on them than four-fifths of people two to three years _older_ than you. And eightieth was your lowest score; you were in the ninety-seventh percentile in math. You should be proud." He folded the letter and tucked it away, figuring that the rest would be financial documents and a materials list. A soft smile spread across his face as their eyes met. "I know I am," he said definitively.

"Very well done, young sir," Alfred congratulated, esteem evident in his tone. "I daresay that this calls for hot cocoa and cookies, don't you, Master Wayne?"

"I agree," he nodded. As the Englishman vanished in the direction of the kitchen, he nudged his son. "Hey."

"…Hi," he responded, looking a little dazed. _I…I got in. I got in, and I did well. My math score was really high…I wonder what it has to be to be on the math team? I hope it's high enough, that sounds like fun. I might not even get teased, maybe…_

"…They'd be proud, too, chum. So proud." _Probably as much so as I am right now. Ninety-seventh percentile in math, against twelve year olds…and his science score wasn't far behind._ He'd be bragging to Lucius – and probably anyone else he could get to listen - at the office tomorrow, he knew that much.

"I know," he stared at his feet. "Bruce…I wish…" _I wish I could tell them._

"…You wish you could tell them?"

"Yeah."

"You can." When he looked up, the man went on. "After cookies, if you want, we'll go break in my snowmachine. Or later this afternoon, your choice. On our way back we'll stop by the cemetery. What do you think?"

"That sounds really nice," he concurred. "…Do you think we can stop and tell Gobblehead Merry Christmas, too? He's probably lonely, I haven't been out to see him in days." Between his recent unhappiness, school, patrol, and his injury, there hadn't been many opportunities for him to visit the turkey. He felt a stab of guilt as he realized that he hadn't finished reading his pet _A Christmas Carol _before the holiday.

"I'm sure he'll understand," he squeezed his good shoulder briefly. "And of course we can. For now, though," he stood and beckoned for him to follow, "we have Christmas cookies to sample, and I happen to know for a fact that Alfred always makes at least seven different kinds."

"…Do you think I could try one of each?" the child asked hopefully as he, too, rose to his feet.

_I don't think I could deny you anything at this exact moment, so…_ "Sure. That's the whole point; otherwise you don't get a good sample, and then it's not a reliable tasting experiment."

Dick knew the explanation was bull, but that just made him like it even more. "…Do you think we'll reach the same conclusions in our experiments?" he asked, half-joking, half-serious.

This time it was Bruce who offered his hand first. "Only one way to know for sure," his lips quirked. "Let's go find out." 


	32. Chapter 32

It was going to be another impatient week for Dick, who on top of being excited to see Kid Flash on Saturday also now had a new school to prepare for. Alfred took him to get his uniforms – Gotham Academy had a much stricter clothing policy than where he'd been going – the day after Christmas, and when he stepped back from securing the boy's tie the butler had serious problems keeping his expression reined in. _He looks like a member of the royal family in that suit,_ he smiled to himself. _It's quite adorable._ "We'll take three," he told the associate.

As they loaded their purchases into the car, Dick asked if they were going home. As nice as it was to be out of the house, Bruce had given him several old case files from which everything but the least amount of information and evidence necessary to successfully solve the crime had been removed. He'd spent all morning with them, reveling in the practice that his guardian had thought up, and was eager to dive back in now that he'd had a break.

But Alfred shook his head. "No, young sir, we're going to retrieve Master Wayne from his office first. We'll be a little early; perhaps you'd like to go up and see him?" _He worries about being in a bad mood when you come to visit him at work, but considering that you spend a fair number of your evenings in the presence of Batman, I imagine you've seen him far worse._ _In any case, his temper is likely to only be improved by your unexpected appearance._

"…Can I?"

"I don't see why not. We'll go up to reception together, and if he's not occupied you can go in and get him."

"Great!" he exclaimed, climbing into his seat and buckling. "Let's go!"

Across town at that moment, Bruce was greeting another visitor. "Lucius," he nodded, closing the report he'd been reading and leaning back in his chair. "I'm glad you had a few minutes to spare this afternoon."

"Of course," he smiled, taking a seat without needing to be offered. He was one of the few people outside the Manor who was truly at ease in the billionaire's company, and as such the CEO's last minute request for a parley hadn't seemed the imposition to him that it would have to most. "You had something you wanted to discuss?"

"Yes. I'll keep it brief, I know you're busy. Dick said you'd offered to take him down to Research and Development sometime. I just wanted to know your, ah, intentions there."

"I did make that offer, and with good reason. You've already made him your legal heir, Bruce; it seems like good sense to me to get him interested in and maybe even involved with everything having to do with the business as soon as possible. Even if he decides to go in a different direction with his life, eventually he'll own this company, and it will be to his advantage at that time to at least have an idea of what goes on behind the scenes. He said he likes math and science, and that's what they do in R&D. What better to pique his interest in his inheritance than seeing where the magic happens?"

"You always told me the magic happens at the negotiating table," the billionaire countered with a tiny smile.

"That's where _my_ magic happens. Same as yours happens in front of the press and in the arms of socialites. I'm betting that Dick's will happen down in R&D."

"Or all three," Bruce shrugged, his smile growing. He'd managed to keep from boasting most of the day, but with Lucius he couldn't hold back. Besides, the other man had said from day one that he liked the boy, and had made it clear that he was interested in him, so there was no reason _not_ to give in to the basic parental urge to crow over his child's achievement.

"He _is_ quite the charmer."

_Yeah, and he knows how to get what he wants, too,_ the billionaire thought, remembering what he'd been told about how Robin had wrangled the information he needed to find the secret staircase from Sawyer's guard. "…He was accepted into Gotham Academy yesterday."

"Gotham Academy? At his age? I thought they started at the sixth grade."

"They do," he replied, now beaming. "He was testing against twelve year olds."

"He must have done very well, to be accepted so young."

"Top three percent in math. Top five in science."

"Against students with three more years of education?" Lucius' smile was partially due to distant pride, but mostly a reaction to the blatant happiness radiating from the man across the desk from him. _I don't know that I've ever seen him so…content, _he mused. "Wonderful. So R&D was the right department to suggest taking him to, it sounds like."

"Yeah, I'd say you pegged him on that."

"And I believe Gotham Academy is one of the top math and science-focused schools in the region, if not in the country…Bruce, if he keeps up this passion, we need to make sure he stays with us."

"I don't imagine he'll go running into the arms of Lexcorp after college, Lucius." _Not after I give him my files on Luthor, at least. But that will wait until summer, if I give it to him now he won't want to stop reading it to do his homework. _"But you're right, it won't hurt anything to instill a sense of company loyalty early on. I'll have Alfred bring him by next Friday. We'll take him down there together." _I'll be damned if I miss his face when he sees the scale model for the outer-atmosphere plane._ "Does that work for you?"

"I'll be available. Just let me know when." He made as if to rise and leave, then paused. _He's in a good mood. Maybe… _"Did you hear? There's an interesting rumor going around the last few days. I just heard it this morning, myself."

"You know how much attention I pay to rumor," the billionaire waved off.

"The word on the street is that Batman's got a partner."

"Oh? Good for him."

"…An extremely _young_ partner, apparently." Bruce didn't answer, but merely sat, watching him with the same placid expression he wore for the cameras. "Don't you find that a little worrisome? You read the papers, you know the kind of things Batman gets tangled up in. Bringing a kid into that…it's risky."

"I'm sure he knows what he's doing, Lucius. Besides, what concern is it of mine?"

"It was my understanding that you know him somewhat?"

"His services have been of use to me in the past," he shrugged. "But I'd hardly tell him how to live his life."

Lucius Fox hadn't gotten where he was in life by failing to pick up on subtext. _Well, keep it to yourself for another day, then,_ he sighed internally. _I just hope like hell that this Robin character lives long enough to decide what to do with his life. Then I hope he comes to work for us, because if he's getting the double education I think he is, whoever snags him is going straight to the top._ "Well. I'll see you in the merger meeting on Friday morning, then," he stood. "And you be sure to give my congratulations to Dick, too."

"I will," Bruce nodded, a bit of warmth coming back into his eyes as the topic turned civilian again. "See you Friday."

Lucius was just stepping out into the wide reception area when he heard the elevator ding. Seeing the figures stepping out of it, he spoke over his shoulder. "Don't get too comfortable with that report. There's someone else here to see you."

"…Who?" he asked, getting up curiously. _I don't have any other appointments for this afternoon, hell, it's almost five, after all…_ Joining the other man, he grinned at the blur of dark hair and bright winter coat just before it wrapped an arm around him. _No sling today,_ he noted, _but he's not trying to use the bad arm. Good, I don't want him tearing those stitches out. _"Hey, kiddo," he greeted. "What are you doing here?"

"We were out buying my new school clothes, and we came to pick you up. Alfred said we were early and that I could come up and surprise you," he tilted his head back and stared up at him. "I missed you today."

_Yeah, you missed my help on those files I gave you,_ Bruce laughed to himself. He didn't say anything, but his hand tightened slightly on his good shoulder. _I missed you, too._

"_Aww,_" Cynthia, his secretary, cooed as she watched the entire exchange from behind her desk. "What?" she defended herself when four masculine gazes turned on her. "It was cute."

"…Are you going to say hello to Mr. Fox, young sir, or continue to ignore him?" Alfred asked after a moment.

"Oh! Hi, Lucius!"

"Master Dick!" the butler sounded mildly scandalized.

"It's all right, Alfred," Lucius stepped in. "I asked him to call me by my name, the same as I did to you. He's just more amenable to actually doing so than you've ever been," he jested lightly. Turning back to the boy, who had released his guardian but still stood close by his side, he crossed his arms. "I heard that you're starting up at Gotham Academy. Bruce told me about your scores, too. Congratulations."

"Thanks," he beamed back. "I'm excited." _And nervous,_ he didn't add.

"You should be. Maybe next week sometime we can take that tour of Research and Development we talked about. The way you're going, it won't be too many more years before you're eligible to work down there."

"Really?! Could we really? Bruce?" he tugged at the billionaire's sleeve. "Next week? Could I?"

"Laying it on a little thick there, Fox?" Bruce gave him a look. "He's nine. I don't have a problem with getting him interested in the company, but it's a little early to be setting serious career goals, don't you think?"

"But R&D sounds like _fun_," Dick protested.

"See, he's even got the acronym down already," Lucius smirked. "All right, all right," he raised one hand placatingly as the CEO's mouth tightened. "I'll stop." _For now._

"…Do you want to go see R&D with Lucius and I next week, Dick?" Bruce asked unnecessarily.

"Yes! Please," he added quickly.

"Keep out of trouble and we will. Deal?"

"…When do I ever get in trouble, Bruce?"

He sighed. "I didn't say it was going to be a Herculean task, did I?"

"Well, no."

"I can make it harder if you'd like…"

"I'm okay, thanks."

"Yeah, that's what I thought." His eyes rose to Lucius, watching them with upturned lips. "Friday morning?"

"Friday," he nodded, turning away. "Goodbye, Alfred. Bye, Dick. I'll see _you_ next week."

"'Kay! Bye, Lucius!"

"Mr. Fox," the Englishman inclined his head. Once he'd gone, he turned to his elder charge. "Shall we wait here while you finish for the day, sir?"

"No, I'll get my coat. C'mon, kiddo, you can smudge up my windows."

"I know better than to touch the glass," he rolled his eyes, following him back into his office and going straight to the floor-to-ceiling view of the city. _Where is it…_ he searched as Bruce and Alfred held a droning conversation in the background, something about the Starlight Ball on Friday. His gaze wandered over to the warehouse district and followed the line of the river over low metal rooftops. _I think we parked the car somewhere between those two buildings,_ he peered out. _Which means it had to have been…that one?_

"Third one on the right after the T-shaped pier," Bruce whispered in his ear suddenly.

"Oh," he breathed, finding it. "…I was one off."

_Still, not too bad for a mile and a half away,_ the man considered. "You ready to go?"

"…Yeah." _I wonder what's going on down there? And with Sawbones. And with the serum, and…when is Bruce going to get scanned again for that, anyway? _"Bruce," he started.

"At home," he cut him off, anticipating his questions. _Well, at least now I know you're completely over your fever,_ he thought as they boarded the elevator and began to descend. _Staring out those windows and musing on night work…you're as bad as I am._

They passed the drive back to the Manor chatting about idle things, school, his new uniforms, and whether or not they could go for another snowmachine ride tonight. As they were stripping out of their winter clothing in the entry, Dick spoke. "I wouldn't have asked anything…you know…Batman-y in your office. I know better than that. But what was wrong with talking in the car?"

"Normally I would say it was okay, but the car was unattended on the street for a quarter hour. Someone could have bugged it. I wouldn't put that past some of the nosier society writers."

"…Could they have even made it so they could hear what we were saying?"

"It would have been extremely difficult, given that they'd be working in broad daylight and wouldn't have access to the interior," he admitted, handing Alfred his coat. "But better safe than sorry. We can talk now, though. You were thinking about Sawyer?"

"…Yes."

"So what did you want to know?"

"Have you been back there? To the warehouse?"

He nodded. "I went night before last." He filled his partner in on what little he'd learned from Gordon and Woodward, as well as informing him that his sweep of the tunnels had uncovered nothing of further interest. "There's a lot of empty space down there," he shared. "Using the guards to find us was a good idea; even with Kid Flash, it would have taken a lot longer to find us just looking by yourselves."

"It just felt really big down there, you know?"

"Yeah," he agreed as they walked into the living room. Alfred had been in the process of taking the tree down that morning, and it stood sadly by, half-stripped of its ornaments, as they seated themselves on the couch.

"So…is Mr. Woodward okay? Do you think he'll make sure Sawbones doesn't get out for a long, long time?"

"I don't think that's part of his job description," Bruce lamented. "But if he has any say in it, I think he'll try."

"But now Batman can't talk to Sawbones, right? Because the feds have him?"

"Right. But," he allowed, "that might not be the end of the world. We got the heroin, the remote is safe, and no one has found any other raw serum besides what was in the tunnels with us that night." _I just wish we could find his damned lab. That must have been where he was hiding out during the last five years. If he has a stockpile of serum, or even just his notes, all he has to do is get free and go back there for this whole thing to start over._

"…When do you get scanned again, Bruce?" He didn't meet his eyes as he asked the question.

"This Saturday, after the meeting. There's no point in making an extra trip; if it didn't work, it's already too late."

"But at least then you'd know," the child pointed out. "And the Zeta tube takes like two seconds!"

"It also takes a lot of energy. Energy's expensive, there's no point in wasting it if we don't have to."

"…I guess."

"…What's really bothering you, Dicky?"

"I just wish we knew you were okay. That Sawbones can't ever control you like that again."

"…We'll find out soon, chum, I promise. It'll be okay." He could tell the assurance hadn't done much for him, and tried another tack. "Did you look at those files?"

"Yes. I decoded all of the Riddler's riddles that you gave me, and started on the Morindal murder. That's a tough one. I don't think you gave me enough to go on."

"You're not presenting it in court," he reminded him. "I just want you to look over what's in the file and figure out what your next steps would be."

"Am I allowed to have more than one answer?"

"Only if you have some special power I don't know about that lets you be in two places at once."

"…Isn't that why there are two of us?"

"You're not ready for solo work yet." _You probably are, actually, but I'm not comfortable letting you do it yet. _"Besides, those are all cases I worked on before Robin existed. So for your purposes, you can only follow one course of events."

"Okay," he sighed. "…Can I go out with you this week? Please?"

"No. Not until your stitches come out. I'm already making an exception for Saturday, you know that." Despite his stern tone, he was pleased by his son's enthusiasm. He'd feared that he might recoil from patrol for a little while following his injury – he certainly wouldn't have blamed him if he had – but his drive was as strong as ever, as evidenced by both his question and the time he'd clearly already spent on the paperwork Bruce had given him.

"…I could stay in the car," he suggested hopefully.

"Dick, you're an obedient kid, but we both know that staying in the car and waiting for me to finish a fight you might not even be able to see would be beyond your patience."

He pouted, but conceded. "I know," he said quietly.

"I'll tell you what. Since you're on break from school, if you want to stay up late and work on your files in the cave until the normal time I bring you home from patrol, you can. Okay?"

His proposal earned him a happy smile. "Okay. That sounds good."

"Good. Now, show me those Riddler answers you worked out, and I'll give you another set before I leave this evening."

"They're downstairs," he popped up from the couch.

"Lead the way."

**Author's Note: So I hadn't planned on this chapter, but a guest reader mentioned that they hoped to see Bruce bragging and it just seemed like such a fun idea that I went with it. I promise we'll have some fun with Robin and KF in the next chapter, though!**


	33. Chapter 33

Still held back from much physical activity by the stitches in his shoulder, Dick passed the next three days reading his new books, some to himself, other aloud to Gobblehead or Alfred, or up in his room playing with the myriad toys he'd been given at Christmas. Bruce's case files kept him occupied as well, and he 'solved' several old crimes to the billionaire's satisfaction before the weekend, including the murder that had seemed so challenging at first. Saturday afternoon found him back down in the cave, engrossed in a new stack. He'd been involved for hours when a shadow fell over his work suddenly, making him jump.

"Whoa, hey, kiddo, relax," Bruce calmed him. "It's just me. Alfred said you've been down here since lunch. You haven't been trying to train, have you?" he raised an eyebrow. He'd been on the phone with Lucius in his study since early morning, dealing with the aftermath of the merger meeting they'd had the day before, and had barely seen the boy since tucking him into bed the night before.

"No. I've been working on these."

"What did you start with?"

"The Doering Plot."

"Mm. Explosions and mayhem," he nodded. "Any luck?"

"I think I'm getting there. That one has a lot more evidence than the others did. It's more reading."

"It was a bigger crime. They were planning to blow up half the banks in the city."

"…That just seems like such a silly thing to do, Bruce. I mean, I sort of get _robbing_ a bank, but blowing one up? You don't even get any money out of that."

"They're not all in it for money, chum, or even power. Some of them just like to cause problems."

"I guess, but still. Weird."

"Yeah, I don't get it, either," he admitted. "But Alfred says dinner's about ready, so we should probably continue not understanding upstairs in the dining room."

Watching him eat a short while later, Bruce was immensely pleased to see that the boy's appetite was nothing like it had been before his first trip to Mount Justice. He cleaned his plate, complimented the pesto, then bounced downstairs to get ready to go. Preparing to follow him, he saw the pleased look on the butler's face as he cleared the table. "Something?" he asked.

"I'm merely happy to see him in such a good mood, sir. The anticipation of changing schools and the friendship of another child have worked quite beautifully to bring him back to his normal self, it would seem."

"I've noticed, too," the billionaire nodded. "He's been much better since Christmas. I think his nightmares about a murderous Batman even stopped." _If they haven't, they've at least been mild enough that he hasn't bothered to mention them. Either way, it's better than the fit he had over that one on Christmas Eve…_ "We'll be a little later tonight than usual for a meeting," he reminded him.

"You're being scanned again afterwards, Master Wayne?"

"Yes."

"Well, I'm sure it will be fine." His tone was steady, but uncertainty persisted in the pit of his stomach. _From what you've told me of your experiences with this Mr. Sawyer, I hope for all of our sakes that the effects of his serum have been fully reversed. Who knows what he might make you do otherwise, were he ever to gain his freedom and recreate his control method… _"Will you be patrolling afterwards?"

"Yes. I'll drop Dick off here first." He paused. "How is he healing? I haven't looked at the wound in a couple of days."

"I intend to remove the sutures in a few days' time."

"Okay. Good. Thanks, Alfred."

"Of course, sir."

By the time he reached the cave, Dick had changed fully into his Robin costume and was rising up and down on his toes in front of the Zeta tube. "Eager much, kiddo?" he teased when he saw him.

"I'm _excited_, Bruce! I've been waiting all week to tell him!"

"I know you have. That's how I know you can survive a few more minutes while I get dressed."

"…Could you hurry? Please?"

"I'll go at my normal speed, thank you," he sighed. This week's meeting promised to be equally as uninteresting as the previous one. It was strange, he considered, how holiday seasons were always either remarkably full of devious plans or practically empty of them. Sawyer's little scheme was the only trouble he was aware of having come up since the last meeting, and as such he was in much less of a rush to get to headquarters than his son was. "Sit down and work on your files until I'm ready." He waited until the boy dragged himself back to his chair before vanishing into the changing area.

Despite what he'd said, he moved with a bit more haste than he generally used unless there was an emergency waiting for him. He emerged, lacking only his cowl, to find Robin staring off into space, chewing distractedly at his lip. "…Something wrong?" he frowned at him. "Is your shoulder hurting?" he asked, knowing that Alfred had cut his pain dosages in half as of that morning.

He looked startled at his early arrival, and gave a head shake in reply. "No, it doesn't hurt. Well, a little, but that's not…"

"…That's not what's bothering you?" He drew up beside as he spoke.

"Huh-uh."

"Well what is it, kiddo? I can't fix it if you don't tell me what it is."

"You can't fix it anyway," he gave a one-armed shrug. "I'm just worried about your scan."

"You were fine all day, what triggered it now?"

"I dunno. I was thinking about telling KF my name, and then I remembered that you're getting checked tonight, and…I thought about what could happen if it didn't work. It's okay," he straightened, trying to seem determined. "I'm sure it's fine."

_Liar._ He didn't call him out on it, though, because he knew he was just trying to make it unnecessary for someone else to reassure him. "…Are you still dreaming about it, Dick?"

"…No." His eyes had darted to his guardian's face for the barest instant, however, and that was all it took for Bruce to know the truth.

"Don't lie to me," he said softly, kneeling beside his chair and placing a hand on his leg. "It's okay to be worried."

"But you're not," he countered.

"…I've accepted that there's nothing that can be done if the solution didn't work," he explained. "And you have to do the same thing. We've done everything in our power to make sure that Flash and I can't be controlled again like that. If it doesn't work, we'll just have to monitor Sawyer and make sure that if he's ever freed he doesn't get a chance to restart his project."

"Bruce, he fell off the face of the earth the last time! Not even _Batman_ could find him! How…how are you going to track him if he gets his freedom?"

"It's not something we have to worry about at this point," he said firmly. "Besides, I have confidence that it worked. That helps."

"…You're really sure it did?"

"Mm-hm." He was the one smudging the truth now, and all he could do was hope that he would be made an honest man before the night was over. In reality, he didn't have the slightest clue whether or not it had worked, and he hadn't dared to believe one way or the other. _It's like I told him; if it didn't, we've done everything we can. _"I am."

_Bruce wouldn't lie to me,_ the child knew. _He must believe it._ "…Okay," he felt his fear ease a tiny bit. "Can we go now?"

"You bet," he said, pulling his cowl on. "Remember the rules?"

"We have to be alone, keep my mask on and my lenses down, and make sure he knows not to call me by my name in virtually every situation possible," he chirped.

Dour lips twitched momentarily upwards. "Right."

Three minutes later they were alone in the lounge at Mount Justice, having beaten the speedsters there. "Are you going to wait with me?" Robin queried.

"I'd like to speak with Superman before the meeting begins," he answered, wanting to let the Kryptonian know that the boys would now be aware of each other's secret identities so that he would have an extra pair of ears to monitor name usage. "You are to stay on the couch, except for necessary bathroom breaks, until I come to get you. The same rules apply as at home; no acrobatics, no climbing, nothing. Do _not _try and listen in on the meeting, through any method. The TV remote is on the table. Understood?"

"All right," he nodded. "Batman?" as tacked on quickly as the man turned away.

"Mm?"

"I…have a good meeting." _Don't still be under Sawbones' control,_ he bit back, giving a little smile in place of those words.

"…Have fun with KF, Robin. I'll see you in a little while." _Damn it, I thought he was past it. I don't think I was supposed to catch him thinking about it back at the cave. I'm surprised he'd hidden it from both Alfred and I so well up until that point…_ Shaking himself as he stalked towards the conference room, he tried to put it out of his head. _He'll be fine. We'll do the scan, the solution will have worked, and he'll be fine._

_I wonder is KF is as worried as I am,_ Robin thought as his eyes focused unseeingly on the blank TV screen. _He probably is, I mean Flash is his mentor same as Batman's mine, and they seem close…_ His solitary thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of the very people in question, and his fear took a backseat to the spike of delight he felt at seeing the other boy. "Hey, KF!" he beamed.

The redhead was beside him on the couch instantly. "Hey, Rob, are you okay? How's your arm? Did Batman say anything about the serum? Do you know anything about Sawbones, is he going to jail, or-"

"Jeez, Kid, _breathe_," Flash chuckled, drawing near. "Hi, Robin. I'm running late," he shot a look at Kid Flash, "and I find it hard to believe that Batman isn't hovering overprotectively, so would you mind pointing out which shadow he's lurking in? I'd rather not be tardy by myself."

"Hi, Flash. He left me here alone, actually. He said he wanted to talk to Superman before the meeting. I think he went straight to the conference room after he told me not to leave the couch until he came back."

"Ah, I _knew_ he had to have given you some overbearing command before leaving," the man grinned. "Guess I'm holding everyone up on my own. You two okay in here?"

"Yup," they chorused.

"Okay. Kid?" He leveled a finger at his protégé. "Hands off my Milanos."

"…You mean you replaced the ones I ate before?"

"Hands. Off," the hero repeated. "Besides, Robin's in no state to climb up and get them for you."

"Oh. Right," he slumped. "Darn." With a victorious look on his face, Flash sped off.

The instant he was gone, Robin straightened in his seat. "Dude, what's up?" KF asked, eyebrows knitting. He fell silent, puzzling as his friend held up a finger and listened. "Umm," he ventured as the dark-haired child left his seat and walked soundlessly to the hall. "I thought you said Batman said to stay on the couch? Rob?"

"…Okay," he came back with a broad smile on his face. He'd listened and looked for people hidden in the room, and checked both ways outside the only entrance; without superpowers, there wasn't much more he could do to ensure that they were alone, and he sure wasn't going to wait any longer than he absolutely had to to enjoy the best Christmas present he'd gotten. Standing in front of Kid Flash, who still wore an expression of utter bewilderment, he stuck out his hand. "Dick Grayson," he said, smirking.

"What are you-" Realization dawned in his eyes, and his mouth dropped open. "Are you _insane_? Batman's going to freaking kill you! Oh my _god_, Rob!"

"It's okay!" he insisted, laughing. "It's okay. He told me I could tell you."

"You…he…you _really_ have permission? I'm…I'm not going to end up on his hit list for knowing?"

"…I'm pretty sure he doesn't have any kids on his hit list," he rolled his eyes. "Besides, a hit list implies killing. We don't do that."

"…True. Still, I'm sure he has a…a _beating_ list, at least," he frowned. _But Rob's probably right that there are no kids on it._

"So…like, are you going to shake my hand, or what?"

"Huh?! Oh," he blushed, snapping back to reality to find that Robin's – _Dick's_, he thought, followed quickly by _poor guy_ – arm was still hovering, waiting for him. "Sorry. Um…we could start over?"

"Did you forget already?" he joked. "I told you; Dick Grayson."

A slow grin spread across the speedster's face as he matched the handshake. "Wally West. Nice to meet you, Dick Grayson."

He flopped back down on the couch. "Same to you, Wally West." They stared at each other for a second, then dissolved into giggles. "Oh, man. That was _awesome_. You should have seen your face!"

"I thought I was going to be Bat-murdered! Or…Bat-smacked. Or something awful!" he tried to defend.

"C'mon, KF, you don't really think I would have told you if I thought he'd actually hurt you, right?"

"No," he shook his head, calming down. "I guess I didn't think about that. I know you wouldn't."

"Good. Oh, and there are rules I'm supposed to go over with you."

"…Rules?"

"Yeah. Like, don't use my name at Mount Justice, or around anyone in costume, or when _we're_ in costume, or when you're talking about people in costume, or…basically anywhere that there's any chance whatsoever that someone might connect me with Robin or Bruce with Batman." _Uh oh,_ alarm bells went off in his head immediately. _…He didn't technically give me permission to tell KF __his__ name. Crap!_

"Dude, wait." The other boy pointed at him, putting pieces together. "…Dick Grayson?" he said slowly.

"Yeah, but you're not supposed to-"

"I know, I know, just one second though. That means…you said Batman's name is…and you're…is freaking _Bruce Wayne_ the goddamn Batman?"

Robin cackled at that, trying to keep his volume down as he chortled, delighted at the sheer shock and awe in KF's –_Wally's_, he thought warmly, _he's Wally, I know that now_ – voice. He managed to nod, and was sent right back into another fit when the redhead's jaw all but unhinged. "Oh, oh my god, dude, your face is _killing_ me right now," he gasped. "Ow, crud, laughing hurts," he half-moaned, hand rising to his shoulder as it was irked by his hard guffaws. "Ow, ow, crap…"

"Whoooooaaa…no _wonder_ you guys have so much cool stuff! He's like a bajillionaire, isn't he?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "But seriously, don't talk about it here, okay? I promised I'd make sure you knew the rules."

"I won't, don't worry. I'm not trying to get you in trouble, just…whoa. I mean, _seriously_, whoa." _I'm friends with one of the richest kids in the world,_ his head spun. _And he…he actually likes me? This is __weird__…_ "Why do you even…I mean…I've got to tell you, Rob, I'm totally normal. Not rich, not famous. Just…a guy. Flash, too. Oh, uh…Barry Allen. He's my uncle."

"Okay," Robin gave him an odd look. "Good to know Flash's name, but…"

"Well…you're _rich_, bro."

"Uh-huh, and…?" _Oh. He's got that 'I'm not good enough' look again. Wally, you're a dork. _"What, do you think that means I don't want to hang out or something?"

"Uh…yeah, I kind of do. Why would you even want to?"

Robin was flabbergasted. "Gee, KF, let's see…_because you're awesome, maybe_?! Or because we got shot at together? Or because we make a great team? Or because you're the only other person I've ever met who likes to watch infomercials and laugh at them?" He paused. "Should I keep going? Because I totally could."

"N-No," he stuttered, overwhelmed. "You really think those things?" _You __actually__ like me for me, even though I'm not rich like you are?_

"Dude. Seriously. Shut the hell up. You _know_ I do! Why does this change anything?"

"It doesn't for _me_, I just thought it might for you…did you just swear?"

"Yeah, I guess I did," he reflected. "But…I don't care about money. I mean I…I grew up poor, okay? Like, travelling circus poor. And I never told you that," he added, glancing towards the door. _He said I could tell you my name, not my life story. Still, though, you'd have found out eventually, it was in all the papers when he took me in._ "Batman doesn't care about how much money people have, either. Being rich is just…a nice perk."

"I'll say. Damn."

"Now _you're_ swearing."

"Meh. I'm older. It's not as bad."

"Jerk," Robin smiled.

"So…still bros?" The speedster offered his fist hopefully.

"As if you even had to ask." He punched it, and they grinned at each other anew.

"I'll bet you got awesome stuff for Christmas," KF opined.

"Yes. But just so you know…it blew my mind. It totally blew my mind." _To the point that it gave me a crying fit,_ he winced slightly. _Poor Bruce. I know he didn't mind, and I know he completely understood, but I still feel a little bad for putting him through that. I can tell it hurts him to see me upset about them…_

Kid Flash didn't pry, sensing that it was a delicate subject. _I can't imagine what it would be like to go through a Christmas without your parents. I mean, if you had parents who were nice, and loved you, and then died suddenly. Kind of like…well, I guess kind of like if something were to happen to Uncle Barry and Aunt Iris…_ The thought of that made him shudder. _Ugh, no, don't think like that. _"What was your best present?" he asked, knowing it would be something amazing and hoping it would distract him from the thought he'd just had.

"Honestly? This."

"…This, what?"

"I asked to tell you my name as a Christmas present. And Batman said yes, although I had to kind of convince him to do it. That was my best present. Your face was _hilarious_…"

_Dude, could you be any cooler? You asked to tell me your name for Christmas? I never would have thought of that, even if Flash hadn't already given me permission to tell you…_ "Okay, well what about, you know, actual _things_? What was the best of those?" he pressed, unable to adequately express in words how moved he was by the trust his friend had obviously placed in him. _He convinced Batman to trust me with his life, _he marveled. Flash had made it clear that their secret identities were important to maintain, at least from civilians and bad guys; he understood what was at stake. It made the effort Robin had gone to even more special.

"...He bought me a snowmachine."

"Whooooaa…"

"What about you? What'd you get?"

"An Xbox. _With_ Kinect." _They probably had to start saving for it in August,_ he mused. _But at least it doesn't sound totally lame against a snowmachine. Kind of._

"That's awesome!" He'd played a fair bit with the gaming systems Bruce had had installed in the den shortly after his arrival, and figured Wally'd gotten the best that was currently available. A thought struck him. "D'you think…I mean, I don't think Flash would mind, and I can probably convince Batman…"

"What? What're you thinking?"

"Well…maybe you could come over next weekend, you know, since we know who we really are now? And we could ride the snowmachine and stuff? Maybe I can even get him to let you stay the night!"

KF was silent for a moment, awed by the very idea. "That. Would be. _Amazing_."

"Yeah?!"

"_Totally_."

"Okay, let's ask when they come back."  
"Sweet." They'd been leaning in towards one another while they talked excitedly, and now that they'd burned off some of the energy they'd raised by sharing their identities they slumped back, wearing equally contented expressions. "…TV?" the redhead ventured finally.

"Yeah." He'd meant to ask KF about Flash, to see if he'd also been losing sleep over the possibility that their mentors might still be under the effects of Sawbones' serum. After the fun they'd just had, though, the last thing he wanted to do was bring the mood down. _Plus,_ he yawned,_ I'm really tired all of a sudden. _

"Sleepy?"

"Yeah…why are there no pillows on this couch?" he pouted.

"I dunno, adults are crazy like that. If I had my own couch, it would be nothing _but_ pillows. Hey, look, I found infomercials!"

"Yay!" Robin cheered. "Good timing, there's a new one about to start." As the next sales segment appeared, they exchanged a glance. _No way. No __way__ are we this lucky, I never get to see the whole thing from the start…_

"Is it…?" Kid Flash's feet were sliding back and forth on the floor so quickly they were a blur.

"…You're going to start a fire like that."

"No I won't, my boot soles are flame resistant." His eyes never left the screen.

"Yeah, but the _carpet_ isn't."

"Yes!" he exclaimed, gesturing at the TV wildly. Robin looked at it, then back at the other boy. Their fists met triumphantly as they cried out in unison.

"Shake Weight!"


	34. Chapter 34

"…All right, then. Meeting adjourned," Superman released them. "See you two over in medical?" he asked Batman and Flash as the others filed out.

"Yeah."

"Be right there." When they were alone, the speedster turned to the cowled man. "You know, this is the second meeting in a row you've wanted to talk to me afterwards; people are going to start thinking we're _friends_ or something."

"…Mm."

"Hey, I'm just letting you know. I thought you might be worried about your image."

"You're in a good mood."

"I'm trying to use it all up in case we go down the hall in a minute here and find out we're still capable of being remote controlled by a lunatic. D'you mind?"

"…No."

"Good. So, what did you want to talk about?"

"The boys know each other."

Flash blinked several times. "Excuse me?"

"I gave Robin permission to share his identity with Kid Flash."

"…Excuse me?" he repeated, unable to believe his ears.

"You heard me."

"Oh, I heard you, I just don't believe it." A slow grin spread across his face. "He pouted, didn't he? I'd just bet he's got one hell of a set of puppy-dog eyes. Did he call you 'daddy' again? Was that it?" His mouth sealed itself as he saw the other man's lips disappear into a thin white line. _Oh, shit, too far?_

"…None of those things were required." _Goddamn it, Clark._

_Damn, that kid is __good__. _"Oh," he said lamely. "So…huh. What…what happens next, then?"

"…I have no idea." They were quiet for nearly a full minute, thinking.

"Well, we could try getting them together like normal people," Flash suggested finally. "That would be a start."

"You'd have to arrive by Zeta tube."

"We could run and come in through the cave mouth."

"No. I prefer not to disarm the entry defenses unless necessary."

"You did last weekend, didn't you? What's different about now?"

"They weren't disabled, but both the car and Robin's costume would have been recognized by the system."

"Um…and if Kid had needed to get back in without either of those things?"

"…There was a reason I told them to stick together, Flash."

"Aaand now I'm regretting asking," he groaned. "Okay," he threw up his hands. "So we come through the tube."

"Yes."

"The boys go play, or whatever."

"Correct."

"Enjoy each other's company."

"Ideally."

"And we…?"

"We?"

"What, am I supposed to just drop him off and go home?" he crossed his arms. "Leave him with such a terrifying, difficult host?"

"Robin is neither of those things."

"Robin's not who I'm worried about."

"…Just bring the boy, Flash. We'll work it out from there."

"You want to play it by ear?" he raised both eyebrows. "_Batman_ playing it by ear?"

"Drop it."

"Okay," he shrugged. "But don't get mad at me if we end up glaring across a table at each other for half a day with nothing to say."

"I find it difficult to imagine you going half an _hour_ without having something to say."

"…Did you just make a _joke_?" he stared at him.

_Why did I say that out loud?_ "…They're waiting for us," he stood up.

"You _did_ make a joke! Maybe that serum of Sawyer's isn't such a bad thing, after all." The cowl's lenses didn't have to be up for him to feel the burning glare that comment was rewarded with. "Yeah, okay, too soon. Sorry."

"I'm going to check on the boys. You should go ahead."

"Hey, wait. What day did you want to try this, uh, 'being regular people' thing?"

"…Next Saturday."

"Sounds good." Passing him, he almost clapped a hand on his shoulder, then thought better of it. "See you down the hall."

"Yeah." When Flash had disappeared towards medical, he sighed. _What did I just agree to? God, I hope I don't regret this…_ Shaking his head, he made his way back to the lounge. Entering, he suppressed a snort. _Infomercials. I should have known that was what Robin would want to watch. I don't know why he derives so much pleasure from gimmicky advertisements._ He could see just the top of Kid Flash's head over the back of the couch, and approached silently. _Asleep,_ he noted the older child's closed eyes. _And you, too, little bird,_ his mouth softened beneath his cowl as he looked down. Robin had curled up with his head on the other boy's knee, clutching his bad arm against his stomach, and was utterly passed out.

Batman glanced around, searching for something to cover them with, and was disappointed. _This place is poorly stocked,_ he realized. _Something ought to be done about that if there are going to be children spending time here. And after tonight's revelation I doubt we'll be able to come to a meeting without them, even on top of allowing them to see each other in the civilian world…_

Unable to do anything to make them more comfortable, he left them alone, all but dragging his feet towards the medical section. _If it didn't work,_ he mused, _there's nothing more I can do except monitor Sawyer. _It was the same thing he'd told Robin, and he knew it to be true, but it left him with a bitter taste in his mouth. _Robin,_ he breathed silently. _What do I tell you, kiddo? If the cure didn't work, what do I tell you? You're still having nightmares, I know that now, and they'll only get worse if you know it's permanent. You've been better the last few days, all except this thing with Sawyer. You can't start at a new school exhausted from bad dreams; you need to be able to concentrate on your studies and on making friends. I can't knowingly hinder that. Not if there's any other option._

He loathed the thought of lying to his son, though. Yes, he was only a child, and sometimes it was best that children not know the travails of the adults in their lives, but there were other factors beyond that to be considered. _He's frighteningly precocious,_ Batman acknowledged. _He may very well just __know__ if I try to lie to him about it. I can lie easily and convincingly to virtually anyone, even some mind-readers, but him…he's different. And I swore to myself when I allowed him to become Robin that I would not lie to him unless telling him the truth put him at risk. _It was true, he supposed, that telling him the cure had worked would protect him from the potentially damaging night terrors he'd been experiencing of late. On the other hand, Robin needed to know that Sawyer could hypothetically manage to get control over his mentor again in order to protect himself and others in such an event. _I don't know what to do,_ he grimaced angrily as he turned into the scanning room. _Curse you, Daniel Sawyer._

"Batman," Superman addressed him first as he entered. "We've got some good news."

"It worked!" Flash grinned deliriously. "Sawyer's serum was no match for J'onn's cure."

"…Your scan was clear?"

"Completely. Right back to normal."

"The machine is ready for you, Batman," Martian Manhunter informed him.

"…Scanning me seems superfluous, since we know your solution worked," he countered, suddenly not wanting to know. _It worked on Flash. That's…that's good enough. I can tell him it worked, and it won't be a lie, because I won't know if the truth is any different. I can still monitor Sawyer and otherwise act as if it didn't erase the serum effects in my brain. We avert the possibility of a takeover, and I don't have to lie to my son._

"You showed more advanced development, though," Superman reminded him gently. "We know the cure works when administered at the stage Flash was at. We need to know if it's effective later on, too."

_I know that,_ he wanted to growl. If he stated as much, though, they'd want to know why he'd suggested he didn't need a scan. He didn't feel like arguing, and he sure as hell wasn't going to explain, so he had no choice but to go along with it. "…Fine. But make this quick. The boys are both asleep," he informed Flash.

The speedster's smile broadened. "Are they curled up together again? Because I've been keeping a camera around since the night of the mission, just in case."

"…No. They aren't." He turned back to J'onn. "You said it's ready?"

"Yes."

"Good." Trying to keep his mind blank, he swept into the next chamber and positioned himself on the table. As it slowly rolled back, he closed his eyes. _I don't know what to tell him if it didn't work. Please, please don't make me have to come to a decision on that. Just…show up clear. I don't want to have to lie to him, and I don't want to watch him deal with any more nightmares than he already has to, either._

Next door, the other three men huddled around the monitors. Flash tapped his fingers against the counter, speeding up unconsciously as the images seemed to take forever to come up. _He's got to be clear,_ he fretted. _I am, and I know there were differences, what with my faster healing abilities, but…he's __got__ to be cured, too. It's not right otherwise. What's he going to tell Robin if he's not?_

"Aah…Flash?" Superman was looking at him sympathetically.

"Yeah?"

"Your hand?"

"Huh? Oh, hell." He'd been so distracted by his thoughts and waiting for their answer that his fingers had vibrated their way almost a knuckle deep into the surface they'd been drumming on. He pulled them back out with a glare. "Sorry."

"It's all right," the Kryptonian said.

"No, I'm afraid it isn't."

Both their heads swiveled back to J'onn. "What?" Superman asked him to clarify.

"Look." The Martian's face was grim as he indicated certain parts of the image that had finally appeared.

"…Please tell me the computer screwed up and we're looking at his last scan," Flash begged numbly.

"No. This is live. The structural changes are still present. Comparing them to the previous picture," he pulled it up quickly, "you can see that the process was very nearly complete when we administered the solution. The only thing that kept you from suffering the same fate was your faster immune system response, which managed to greatly slow the progression. His, being normal, was overpowered by the speed of the serum." He shook his head. "I will continue to work with what's left of the sample, but I don't believe that there is any way to reverse it now."

"…Get him out of there," Superman ordered quietly. No one spoke as the table rolled back out and the black-clad man climbed off of it.

He didn't have to ask; the atmosphere of depression when he entered the observation room told him all he needed to know. "…No one is to mention this to Robin," were the first words out of his mouth. "Nor to anyone who might let it slip to him," he turned pointedly towards Flash. He hadn't known what his decision would be until the words were leaving his mouth, but once he'd spoken, it was final in his mind. _I have to protect him from what I __know__ will happen rather than what __might__ happen. The nightmares are the more immediate danger right now. _

"…You can't not tell him, Batman," the Kryptonian argued. "I know it's not what you wanted to be able to announce, but he needs to know."

"What if Sawyer comes back?" Flash pressed. "He knows the boys exist, he could go after them next time."

"The risk of Sawyer taking control of me again is something I've already considered," he said roughly. "But I have the remote, and I will monitor the situation."

"He _has_ to know," Superman insisted.

"_No_, he does not. The odds of this becoming an issue in the future are far lower than the odds of him being hurt by the information you want to give him." _I shouldn't have to explain this. He's __my__ child, I can tell him what I choose._ He needed the complicity of the others, though, if he was going to truly keep Robin safe from the information that he knew would haunt his sleep. He'd been difficult enough to soothe when there was still a possibility of a cure, and even with Bruce's confident reassurance he was still worrying. _Telling him will only terrify him needlessly. Sawyer could die in a federal cell, for all we know, and then I'll have hurt my son for nothing. No. He can't know, not until the threat is real again._

"I don't understand," J'onn broke in. "In what way would he be hurt by knowing about a potential danger?"

"Nightmares," Flash murmured, his experience with Kid Flash giving him an edge over the other two in understanding what such knowledge would lead to in a young mind.

"…He's already had a few," Batman disclosed grudgingly. "In which I'm on an uncontrollable rampage, destroying things and killing people. I won't watch him go through another of those if it can be helped. No one," he growled, "is to tell him. My scan came back clean; that is the story he will be given. Flash…"

"I know," he interrupted. "The boys are too close for Kid to know if Robin doesn't. So you want me to lie to him."

"…Yes." _I'm sorry._

"And what if I say no?"

Batman froze. _Damn it, Barry. Don't be like this. _"You don't think Kid Flash is likely to have nightmares, too?"

"Yes, but not as bad as Robin's." _Although he's not going to be very happy having to lie to his friend, especially if Robin finds out he's been hiding it from him._ "I don't like to lie to him, Batman."

"And I dislike lying to Robin. But in this instance it's necessary." He steeled himself. "…I'm asking for your help, Flash," he muttered, not looking directly at him.

_Oof. What the hell do I say to that? Batman, literally asking for help. _ He didn't want to do it. At the same time, though, he remembered the helplessness he'd felt under Sawyer's control, and the threats that had been made. _Sawyer was tempted to make him beat Robin himself,_ he recalled. _I know he remembers that. And I'm sure Robin remembers being hurt, and Batman not being able to move a finger to help him. That alone, plus the idea of him being ordered to kill…shit, __I__ might have nightmares from that stuff now. _He closed his eyes with a frustrated sigh. _I'll never be able to sleep at night if I tell Kid and it gets back to Robin. Just the thought of a nine year old trying to deal with those kinds of night terrors…what if the situation was reversed? What if it was Wally and I in their places?_ "Fine," he caved exhaustedly. "I agree. I won't tell him. For now," he added an addendum. "But…I think we should talk again down the road, when they're a little older."

"…Agreed." He paused. "Thanks."

"J'onn?" the cowl turned towards the Martian.

"…Forgive me for having noticed, but you and Robin have a unique bond. I believe that you know better than anyone how he is likely to react to such news. I also sense that putting him through the visions that you fear will visit him would cause you a great deal of stress and pain. That would be detrimental to your skills as well as his, especially if it continued over a period of time, as you suspect it would. You also truly believe that this is the better path. And, as you pointed out, Sawyer's return is uncertain, if not unlikely; Robin's nightmares are all but guaranteed. As such, I must agree with your decision. But please keep in mind that he must be told eventually, and that at that time you will have to explain to him why you spoke an untruth."

"I know." _I'm not looking forward to it, to say the least, but…hopefully he'll understand. He understands so much already, I think he might be able to forgive me for this._ "Superman," he said finally, his voice more a threat than a question.

"I think you're making a mistake," he opined frankly. "Both of you. It's your decision, though. But if Sawyer is freed, or escapes," he crossed his arms, "then you have _got_ to tell them. For their own safety, you won't be able to hold it from them then." _If it comes to that, I'll tell them myself. _

"Agreed," Batman nodded tersely.

"Of course we'll tell them in that case."

"Okay. Well…I guess we're done here, then."

Without another word, Batman turned and walked out. Flash followed him towards the lounge. "…Batman?"

"What?"

"Stop a second."

"…What?" he repeated, coming to a halt.

"…I stood up for you in there. So…I'd like you to answer a question for me. Honestly."

"…What?" he allowed.

"Are we _really_ doing the right thing, with them?"

The lips beneath the cowl tightened. _I don't know. I really don't. _"We're doing the only thing we know how to, Flash," he answered brusquely.

"…Yeah," the speedster breathed as the other man continued down the hall. "I just hope it's enough."


	35. Chapter 35

"…Batman?" Robin asked groggily as he felt himself being lifted from the couch.

"Yes?" _Don't ask, not now, not while you're all warm and cuddly…_

He shifted around in his arms. "…Are you cured?" he whispered against his throat.

_Damn it. _"Yes," he answered, keeping his voice as level as he could.

"…You don't sound very happy about it."

"I am, chum," he told him. "Go back to sleep. We'll be home soon."

"Mmkay…"

Kid Flash stirred as he felt the weight on his leg vanish. "…Rob?" he cracked his eyes. "Oh," he found Batman looking down at him. "I thought he'd gotten up or something."

"Flash will be here in a moment." After their brief conversation in the hallway, the speedster had let him pull ahead, lost in thought, Batman imagined, about the night's events. He turned to leave, but the redhead's voice stopped him exactly the way his mentor's had a short while before.

"…Batman?"

"Yeah?"

"Um…thanks. You know, for letting Robin tell me his real name. It…it means a lot to me."

He looked back over his shoulder at the boy on the couch. _Well. That was unexpected._ "Don't make me regret it, Kid Flash." _I'm trusting you with his life._

"I won't," he shook his head. "I promise."

"…Good. Flash," he nodded as the other man came in.

"Batman," he answered. "Ah…Saturday, right?"

"If you still want to." _I wouldn't really blame you for __not__ wanting to, after I asked you to lie for me._

"Sure." _I'm not happy about this, but I'm not going to punish the boys. They're innocent about it, and I'm not going to be the one to ruin an opportunity for them to feel like semi-regular kids for a day._ He moved past him to where his partner was wiping sleep from his eyes. "You ready, Kid?"

Batman left them like that, Robin not stirring in his arms as he made his way to the transport room. Stepping into it, he scowled. "Superman."

The Kryptonian had to be sure, so he'd come here to wait and to try one last time. "Do you really believe this will work?" he queried, glancing at the seemingly sleeping child. "Because I don't. Not for long, at least."

_I have to try. I have to at least attempt to protect him. What good am I if I can't even save him from myself? _"…I don't know what you're talking about," he nearly snarled, stepping into a tube. _Idiot, mentioning it when he's in earshot. So much for your help. Why can't you understand that this is in his best interest?_

Back in the cave, he relaxed slightly. _Get the boy in bed, then talk to Alfred._ Setting his load on one of the exam tables, he stripped off his cowl and gloves. "Hey, kiddo?" he roused him. "You've got to change so you can go to bed. Come on."

"Mmph…okay." He opened his eyes slowly, then caught sight of Bruce and sat up. "It worked, right? I didn't dream that?"

"Yes, it worked." He didn't look at him as he answered, seemingly absorbed with his boots. "Flash, too."

"…You're not going out tonight?"

"Not right now. Maybe later." _Or maybe I'll just wait around and see if you need me. I want to know if telling you I'm cured makes a difference in your nightmares._ "Get changed."

For several minutes there was nothing but the rustle of clothing. Then, close at the billionaire's side, came his name. "…Bruce?"

"Hmm?" He glanced down to find curious blue eyes staring up at him. _Uh-oh._

"Bruce, you wouldn't…" He scuffed his foot, bare under the hem of his pajama pants, against the cold floor. "…You wouldn't lie to me, would you?"

_Fuck me, that was fast._ "Why would you think I would, chum?" he played it off, concentrating on his shirt buttons.

"…I don't _want_ to think that you would."

"Dick," he said firmly, kneeling suddenly and gripping his good shoulder. "I wouldn't lie to you unless I believed it was necessary for your safety." That, at least, was a true statement, and that was the only reason it managed to leave his mouth smoothly.

"…What does that _mean_, though?"

"It means I'm…not lying to you now," he ground out. _Why is this so much harder than lying to anyone else? Christ, and I asked Flash to do the exact same thing. Is it going to be this miserable for him, too? _He paused. _Wow, I'm a real asshole sometimes, aren't I?_ "Dick…" _I'm lying,_ sat at the end of his tongue. Maybe if he told him, right now, and then called Flash to stop him before he lied, too, he could undo it, reverse the mistake. _I can't keep this up. You'll see it._ _That was a lie. I'm sorry. Forgive me._

"…Okay," he said before Bruce could finish. "I believe you." There was still a seed of discord in the back of his mind, something that didn't seem quite right, but…_ It's __Bruce__, _he argued with himself. _Bruce wouldn't lie to me. He just said he wouldn't, not unless it was 'necessary for my safety.' If Sawbones could still get to him, then it would be super important that he tell me, so I could help be on the lookout. Right?_ He wavered for a second as something odd flashed in the billionaire's eyes. _Right._ That wasn't guilt, surely. No. It had to be something else. Relief, maybe. _But his eyes get lighter when he's relieved, not darker…_ He shook the thought off. _No. He __wouldn't lie.__ Not to me. We're partners, I would need to know. He would tell me. He trusts me. _Those last three words bolstered his confidence. _He's telling the truth._ _He's cured._ A brilliant smile spread across his face. "I'm so glad," he beamed, reaching up for him.

A sickening war between joy and despair raged in his stomach. "…Me, too, kiddo," he managed to smile back. As he bent and lifted him, holding his head tight against his shoulder so that there was no opportunity for that knowing gaze to read him even further, he saw Alfred step down from the last riser between the cave and the house. _Help,_ he shot him a pleading look. _I just went off the deep end._

"…Master Wayne?" the butler inquired, drawing near. "Is everything all right?"

"It worked, Alfred!" Dick announced, his words muffled by his guardian's shirt. _Ow, Bruce, let my head go,_ he frowned, squirming when the fingers against his scalp kept their pressure up. Finally released and lowered back to the ground, he bounded up to the Englishman. "Since everything's all better now, can I have a cookie before I go to bed?"

"…Of course you may, young sir," he answered a bit distractedly. "Go on upstairs to the kitchen, I've already set the container out. No more than two," he instructed. "And you may pour yourself a glass of milk, if you'd like."

"Okay!" A moment later, he was gone, leaving the two adults facing each other.

"Alfred," Bruce sighed, preparing to unload his worries.

"What have you done, sir?" The butler's voice was low, those five words carrying an accusation and far too much knowledge.

"…How did you know?"

"I all but raised you, you may recall. After nearly twenty years of that, I daresay that I know you well enough to sense when you've done something you know is wrong."

He hadn't felt so small since he'd been Dick's age. "I'm not cured," he confessed, whispering in case the boy had snuck back down to listen from the shadows.

"Then why on _earth_ does he think that you are?"

"He's still dreaming about it, Alfred," he explained, his voice taut. "You weren't there when his fever broke. He had this god-awful nightmare right before… It's been haunting him, do you understand? He dreamt of me running around Gotham and killing people. I thought he was over it after we talked – he said he was okay – but he told me again, tonight, that he still worries about it, that he's still having those dreams. And he hasn't been coming to me, probably because I told him that when he's afraid he should try and channel Robin, and…" _And so he hasn't wanted to seem weak, _he choked on the thought. _He stopped coming to me because I told him to channel Robin when he was afraid of the dark. If he heard that and read being scared of the dark in __me__ as the same thing…oh, god, no wonder_ _I didn't know. I all but told him to deal with it on his own._ "…I just wanted to protect him from his nightmares, Alfred. I told him I was cured because I want him to stop having such ugly visions. He's already exposed to so much terror fodder, I just wanted him to have some relief."

"…Have you lost your mind, Master Wayne?" the butler queried frankly.

"That's kind of the whole problem, isn't it?" came back snarkily.

"No, sir. The problem is that you've now assured him that you're perfectly fine. Which means two things, as I see it; one, when he does learn that you've lied to him – which he will, you and I both know that it will be a matter of days at the most before he caves to the logic that is no doubt already troubling him – he's going to be extremely hurt by your lack of trust. Two-"

"I trust him!" he objected.

"_Two,_" he continued, "what are you going to do if Sawyer somehow reappears before he admit to himself that, no matter how much he _wants_ to believe you, you are lying to him? He'll have no warning, no reason to even think that you _might_ suddenly be forced to turn on him, or on anyone else. I hope such a thing never occurs, of course, but god forbid it were to happen while you had him out on patrol with you, or whilst you two were alone in the house. He's _completely_ off his guard around you now."

"Good!" Bruce exclaimed suddenly. There was a stunned silence. "Good," he repeated slowly. "I don't…I don't _want_ him to be on his guard around me. I…" he shook his head, eyes wet and hot. "He trusts me. And I know…I know that trust will be damaged when he figures it out, but…until he does, at least he won't be watching me from the corner of his eye, waiting for me to spring on him. Do you think he'll still run up to me every day when I get home from work, wanting a hug, if he knows Sawyer could be in control? Or curl up on the couch with me and fall asleep after dinner? Do you know how much I _count_ on those things some days?" He fell back, breathing hard. _I__ didn't even realize,_ he moaned silently. _I knew I…I needed him, but…oh, god._

"Tell me, Master Wayne," Alfred said quietly, his face lined with weary understanding following his elder charge's outburst. "Has he stopped doing those things since the night of the mission?"

"No. You know he hasn't. But Sawyer's been under arrest since that night."

"And he is still under arrest, is he not?" the butler pointed out, arching an eyebrow.

_Oh. _"…Yes." _Bruce Wayne, you colossal idiot._

"And yet the young master still comes to you before anyone else for comfort, does he not?"

"…Yes." He buried his face in his hands.

"So what, pray tell, did you imagine would change in his attitude, given that nothing has changed in regards to the facts?" He was aware that the man before him had seen the light, but there was no harm in driving the point home once more. "And even if his attitude did change, I would hope that you realize that keeping him in the dark could cost him his life. Potentially at your hands."

_No. No, don't think about that. _"…I'm so bad at this," he groaned.

"On the contrary, sir. You may be too good at it."

"Huh?" He looked up.

"For you to become so flustered with concern that you overlooked logic in your pursuit of his wellbeing is one thing. For _Batman_ to do the same…" he shook his head. "Well, that is saying something, is it not?"

He had no response for that; the philosophical implications were too complex for him to tackle with a pounding head and damp cheeks. "Alfred, what the hell do I do now?" he supplicated after a moment.

"I would advise that you correct your error as expediently as possible. Tell him the truth," he said forcefully. "The longer you wait, the harder he's going to take it. And for heaven's sake, Bruce, stop trying to protect him from the facts. You knew when you brought him into your moonlighting that everything would have to be laid bare; you cannot renege on that now, no matter how much it might hurt him or," he said pointedly, "how much it might hurt you to see him deal with it. You made your choice, and I warned you then that you didn't know what you were getting into." He stepped closer, reached up, and let his hand rest on the younger man's shoulder for a moment, a guiding touch, a rare but powerful gesture in their history. "It's the most painful thing in the world to watch one's child tackle the ugliness that lurks in so many hearts," he shared softly. "But when you see them triumph, it is also the most rewarding." He pulled away, once again the utterly proper advisor. "I advise you to keep that in mind in the future, sir."

"Right…" He scrubbed at his eyes. "Look, would you call Flash and…tell him I appreciate it, but that I changed my mind? And verify Saturday, too? I…I invited them over. The boys have earned some time together in the civilian world. I'd do it myself, but…" his eyes looked towards the ceiling.

"You have other matters to attend to, Master Wayne," the butler nodded. "I'll phone Mister Allen immediately and relay your message."

"…Alfred?"

"Sir?"

"Thank you," he whispered, then moved swiftly towards the stairs.

"Not at all," the Englishman murmured, watching his retreating back. "You'll find that forgiveness is part of the job description." _Along with patience, understanding, a fair dollop of exasperation, and unending love._ A tiny smile lit across his face as he crossed to the cave phone. _But I believe you're already well on your way to mastering those aspects of the position._


	36. Chapter 36

The cookies were good – Alfred had baked them, after all – but for some reason they stuck in his throat.

_He __wouldn't__ lie to me. I asked him specifically! He would tell me. It doesn't make sense for him not to tell me the truth._

_But there was something in his eyes. He seemed so guilty when we were talking. I guess it could have had to do with the meeting, but…_ He glanced at the clock. _He and Alfred have been down in the cave for a while now. Alfred…He knew something was off, too, I know he did._ His gaze fell to the treat in his hand. _…That's why he sent me upstairs. He never tells me to pour my own milk, and he doesn't just leave me unattended with the cookie container, either. He wanted to talk to Bruce, and he wanted to do it without me around._

_But why would Bruce lie to me?_ He wasn't eating anymore, just holding his food and staring off into the middle distance as he contemplated that weighty question. _If he's not cured, then that's something I need to know. So why wouldn't he tell me? I'm his partner, he wouldn't keep it from me. He __couldn't__, it would put everyone at risk if Sawyer somehow got free. _They were the same arguments that had gone around and around in his head downstairs, and as much as he wanted to regain the certainty he'd felt in his guardian's arms, his defenses were crumbling. "No," he said out loud to the empty kitchen, pouting. "He's _not_ lying." _Please don't be lying, Bruce._

The appetite he'd had a short while before had vanished with his wrangling. Still musing, he set his cookie down and trudged up the stairs to bed. _I want to believe you so bad,_ he thought painfully as he passed the door to the master suite. _And you said you weren't lying, so why do I still feel this way?_ _Why does everything feel even __more__ wrong than it did before? _He paused, considering his options. He could go into Bruce's room and wait, stay up and ask him one more time, just to be absolutely sure. _But if he __is__ lying, he'll just say the same thing,_ he decided sadly. _So that's kind of pointless._ Sighing, he made his way into his own bedroom. _Maybe I'm just super tired, and that's why everything seems so off-kilter with him. Maybe he's really telling the truth, and I just need to sleep to realize it. Yeah. That sounds good._ Part of him knew that the thought was merely his last, lame attempt to convince himself that everything was all right, but he shoved that away, climbed into bed, and closed his eyes. _Everything's fine. Bruce said so._

Usually when he was unsettled it took forever for him to fall asleep. Tonight, however, he passed easily into a dream. The only problem was that it was so realistic that he didn't realize he was no longer awake.

He'd been in bed for just a few minutes when his door opened. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. "…Bruce?" He caught his mistake as he took in the man silhouetted against the lights in the hall. "Batman?!" _Okay, that's just weird, we never wear costumes upstairs…and I thought he wasn't going out on patrol right now? He wasn't, I remember, because he changed when I did. This is wrong. _"Batman, what's going on?" The figure entered as he spoke, his motions seeming scripted. There was no answer. "Where's Alfred?" he ventured, trying to keep his voice steady as his fear mounted.

"…Busy."

"I don't believe you," he shook his head. _He'd never let you come upstairs in those clothes._

The caped form stopped at that. "I said he's…busy."

"You're lying," he whispered, simply _knowing_ that was the case.

Hands snatched him up out of bed suddenly. "What?" was growled inches from his face.

"What…what are you doing? Ow!" he cried out, struggling as hard fingers dug into the nearly-healed wound on his shoulder. "Bruce," he tried his name, hoping it would break through to the man beneath the cowl. "Please."

"You will do as you're told. You will believe as you're told."

"O-okay, just put me _down_!" He was dropped unceremoniously, landing half on and half off of the bed. He managed to fall so that he wasn't hurt, but as he recovered a boot slammed into his ribs. The bed scraped several inches across the floor as he screamed in pain, hot agony flowering into being along his side. He stared upwards, eyes wide and streaming, and the back of a coarse glove came out of the darkness to smack him across the face.

"You don't give the orders here."

_That's…that's not his voice,_ he determined as he scooted backwards. _That's not him, that's…that's Sawbones!_ Catching a glimpse of the cowl leaning down, its owner grabbing for him, he threw himself to the side. He landed on his already damaged and dripping arm, and the scramble he'd intended became a sprawl. Another half second would have been enough for him to make it – the door was still open, the path clear if he leapt and tumbled over the bed and sprinted for it – but his ankle snapped under the pressure of a stomp.

Now he shrieked, blubbering a few last-ditch efforts in between gasping cries. "Bruce…Bruce, please, stop…it hurts…_Bruce_, _why_?!"

"You know the answer."

"_Why?!_"

"Stop being stupid and _think_."

"Batman – Bruce_…_" The last word drew out into a choked wail as he was chucked across the room. He managed to flip around so that his legs slammed into the wall instead of his head, but it still hurt terribly. He didn't move this time as he was dragged vertical and held there, his toes brushing the floor as he dangled from the single gauntlet that clamped both of his wrists together in the air. "Daddy…please…you're hurting me…_da-addy…_"

Then, without warning, he was crumpled on the floor. He cringed, expecting the blows to renew, but they didn't come. Finally he opened his eyes, daring to look up, and found his guardian on his knees before him, lenses up, eyes dark with horror. Shaking hands reached out, the same ones that had been abusing him only moments before. "Dicky…he wanted me to kill you…oh, god, I'm so sorry…" Just as a tear rolled down towards the man's chin, he gasped, his face contorting. His fingers pulled back and gripped his temples as an awful bellow tore from his throat.

"No, no, nonononono…" _No, no, the serum, you disobeyed the serum…I don't know __how__ you disobeyed it, but you did…and now…and now…_ "Daddy!" he shrieked anew as the figure slumped to the ground, muscles lax, eyes open. _Dead. Just like the guard._ Despite his injuries, he threw himself forward, landing on him and breaking down into miserable sobs. _You lied to me. You told me you were fixed. You told me it was better. You lied to me. I could have helped…why? Why did you lie to me?! We could have fixed it somehow!_ His good arm pounded angrily on the body. _Wake up! It's not real, it's __not__, so wake up!_

Voicing another howl, Dick woke up. The transition was so abrupt that the embrace he found himself in was too much of a non-sequitur to be tolerated. He shoved his way out of it, skittering back across the mattress before he looked up. "_Bruce?!"_

"It's okay," was all the billionaire could manage. He'd figured that he had a problem the moment he'd walked into the kitchen and found the barely nibbled-on cookie that had been abandoned on the breakfast bar. _He knows something's off. Damn it, why did I think I could lie to him?_ By the time he'd gotten upstairs, the boy had been well entrenched in the nightmare, cowering under his covers and begging for leniency.

"Bruce…Bruce, please, stop…it hurts…_Bruce_, _why_?!"

"Hush, hush, it's okay," he'd rushed to him immediately, trying to comfort him physically even as his mind recoiled. _Oh, Christ, I made it worse somehow,_ he cursed himself. _I thought your bad dreams would go away, chum. That's all I wanted, was for them to go away and let you feel safe…_

"Daddy…please…you're hurting me…_da-addy…_" It hadn't taken a genius to figure out that he wasn't protesting the dream-actions of John Grayson. _I've wanted to hear him call me that again so badly,_ Bruce sobbed silently, every nerve in his body burning with woe, _and when he finally does, it's because I'm __hurting__ him… _"Daddy!" A small, clenched hand had smacked into him, transmitting desperate anger.

"Wake up!" he pled. "It's not real, it's not, so _wake up_!" _I can't watch you go through this._

As if he'd been ordered to do so, the child had awoken. Through some escape artist magic that the billionaire knew he hadn't instructed him in, a second later Dick had snaked out of his grasp and flown to the opposite corner of the bed. Several shaky breaths left them both before another word was spoken. _"Bruce?!"_

"It's okay," he breathed now, reaching out for him. "Come here, it's okay, it was just a dream."

"Bruce." His fear was draining, hurt and confusion rushing in to take its place. _Oh. Oh, no. Oh, Bruce, __why?__ It wasn't just a dream. You…you lied to me._

"It's okay," he continued to insist, not seeming to realize that the emotion of the room had shifted drastically in the past few seconds.

"Bruce…" he shook his head, eyes filling with fresh tears that were derived not from pain or terror but sheer disbelief. "Bruce, why?"

"Why what, Dicky? I know, I know it was a bad dream, so tell me. It wasn't real, I promise. Tell me what I did," he encouraged. "Tell me what I did, and it'll be better, I swear." He watched as the boy sat back, wrapping his arms around himself. Hurt blue eyes met his, and his stomach sank. _The nightmare didn't cause that look,_ he put together just before he heard his answer.

"…You _lied_ to me."

"…Dick…I…you don't…" he flailed for a reply.

"You _lied_ to me," the boy repeated, mouth trembling. The motion spread until he was shaking so hard that Bruce could feel it through the bedding.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, shaking his head. "I'm so sorry, kiddo, please, please let me explain." He shifted closer, aching to touch him, to relay his sorrow and self-hate through some physical bridge, but before he could make contact the child stood up and stepped out of reach. "…Dick, _please_."

"Why?" he questioned plaintively. Staring at him in the semi-darkness, the billionaire realized that there was no acceptable answer. Sure, there were several replies he could give that would likely be considered sufficient, but none of them were what was deserved. _You never should have been lied to to begin with._

"Listen to me, I just wanted to protect you. I swear, chum, that's all it was. Your nightmares…"

"So you're still under the serum? Sawbones…he could still control you?" _Say no. Say no and make me believe it. Say no, but don't you dare lie._

He closed his eyes. "Yes," he confessed. A short sob drew his attention, and he found his partner's head bowed, hands raised and covering his face as he slumped to the floor. Bruce was up and moving around the bed in an instant, crouching at his side, fingers tripping along his shoulder.

"Don't touch me."

He pulled back as if he'd been burned. _Dicky…no…don't be like this, please… _"I'm sorry," he echoed himself. "I know you don't understand why-"

"Y-yes I _do_," his tongue tripped. "You didn't t-tell me because I'm…because I'm _weak_," he spat the final word. _I just want to help you, but I can't if you don't think I'm strong enough to tell me things I need to know. I have to be stronger. I have to be more like you._

"No!" he negated roughly. "No, Dick. I didn't tell you because _I'm_ weak."

"…That doesn't make sense, Bruce." The words carried a chill beyond the speaker's years, but at least he looked up as he said them. "You're the strongest person I know, other than Superman. And in some ways you're stronger than him. So stop _lying_."

"I'm not," he insisted, sitting cross-legged on the rug just out of arm's reach. _Stronger than Clark? Wow. That's actually pretty damn flattering, kiddo. _"Let me explain? Please? I just want to make this right."

"…Fine." He crossed his arms and averted his still-leaking eyes, but Bruce caught him peeking frequently as he spoke.

"I'm strong in many ways, Dick. But…not when it comes to you. In that realm, I'm dangerously fragile. When I realized, earlier tonight, that the solution hadn't worked – that I can still be controlled by Sawyer in the event that he gets free and builds another remote – I didn't think about what he might make me do. I didn't think about the innocent people he might turn me against, the ways he could twist me into doing the very things I have always worked to prevent from happening. All I could concentrate on was _you_. You and those horrible nightmares I knew you'd been having, having and _hiding_ from me. I was afraid that if I told you the truth your dreams would get worse. More than that, even, I was afraid that I would have to _watch them_ get worse. And I couldn't stand that thought. It was easier – it seemed easier, at least – to lie to you. If you thought I was cured, the dreams would end. There would be nothing more for you to fear from Sawyer. I would know, and I would monitor him just in case, but you could go on as if it was all over. You could sleep easier, and in turn so could I."

"It didn't work," the boy sniffled. "You lied to me for nothing, Bruce."

"I know," he answered, distraught. "I know it didn't. I wish I could take it back, I truly do. Maybe you wouldn't have had that dream just now, where…" he choked, "where I was…I was hurting you, wasn't I? It was _me_ making you scream like that."

"…Yes," he nodded. "But I know now that it wasn't real." He shuddered, remembering the blank expression beneath the cowl. "…It was still scary, though."

"I only lied to you because I didn't want you to _ever_ see what you just saw, in real life or in your sleep. It was a stupid mistake, Dick, and I can never fully explain to you how sorry I am that I did it. But you have to understand that I was just trying to protect you."

"How about protecting me from Sawbones?" he burst out suddenly. "How was I supposed to watch out for you to be under his control if I thought you were fixed, Bruce?! How am I supposed to help you if I don't even know that there's a problem, huh? Isn't that what you always say to _me_?"

"I…" _I have no response for that, because you're completely correct. _"I was wrong. I should have told you, but Sawyer regaining control of me seemed – and still does seem – far less likely to occur than you having more and more terrible nightmares did. I had to fight the closer enemy first, do you understand? Sawyer was bigger in the long run, yes, but in my mind he was miles away. The nightmares were right there, staring me in the face."

"…If I could control my fears, it wouldn't have been a problem," Dick sighed. "But I've been _trying_, Bruce. I really have been. I still get bad dreams, though, and I'm still…" he ducked his head, "…I'm still scared of the dark."

"The dark inside, or the dark outside?" the man asked gently.

"Both. But mostly inside."

"…Inside of me?"

"…Inside of both of us."

Had he been standing, he'd have stumbled back a step. "You don't carry darkness, chum," Bruce reassured. "You're all light."

"If I was _all_ light, Bruce, I wouldn't have the nightmares. They're the dark, trying to escape." He sniffled. "…I never used to have bad dreams, did you know that? I mean, I'd wake up a little afraid sometimes, but…never screaming."

"…Why are you so goddamn smart?" his voice nearly broke. _Most of that 'escaping darkness' is only in you because of me. So much of this is my fault…_

"Gypsy curse."

Their eyes met, matchingly wide at the unexpected quip, and then both fell into pain-laced snorts of laughter. _Oh, oh my __god__, you brilliant, perfect little thing,_ the billionaire marveled silently. _How did you…I mean, you just…I would __never__ have cracked a joke at that moment._

_I don't know where that came from,_ his son smiled back. _But it's nice to make you happy, even if it's just for a second._

"Oh, Dicky," he murmured finally, voice heavy with unspoken affection as he swiped at his face. "I know you're still mad at me, and trust me I don't blame you in the least, but…please, forgive me? I know, I'm an idiot," he went on as the boy's mouth opened. "Alfred made that patently clear, and I'm probably going to get it rubbed in my face by Superman. Forgive me anyway, okay?"

Before he replied, Dick crawled up to his partner. The man's hands were resting on his bent legs, and he covered them with his own, leaning forward and staring at him unblinkingly. "Do you trust me, Bruce?" he asked, all traces of levity now gone from his posture.

"Absolutely," he answered without hesitation.

"…Does Batman trust Robin?"

"More than he's ever trusted anyone."

"…Are either one going to lie to me again?"

"Only if your safety depends on it." Seeing protest rise, he continued quickly. "I won't try to keep things that I'm afraid will give you nightmares away from you." _You'll just see right through me anyway, so what's the point?_

The child's lips quirked. "…I forgive you," he said after a long moment, then backed away a little.

"You understand why, don't you, Dick? Why I did it?"

"I…I think so," he smiled vaguely. "…I'm glad I have you to look after me, Bruce. But you're a little overprotective, you know that?"

"I let you jump off of buildings and tackle criminals," he crossed his arms. "How is that overprotective?"

"_That's_ not. But this was."

"…Yeah, okay. Point conceded." He opened his arms. "Can we be friends again?"

Dick cocked his head and shot him a quizzical look. "…Did we ever stop?"

Bruce grinned. "Not in my book, chum." He caught the child as he threw himself forward, wrapping him in a tight embrace. _Never in my book._


	37. Chapter 37

"I'm still a little bit mad at you for lying to me. Just so you know."

"It's okay. I'm still mad at me, too." They broke apart. "…How tired are you?"

"Bruce…" he stared down at the floor. _If I tell you the truth, the __whole_ _truth, it will upset you,_ he debated. _But I don't want to make the mistake you did. It might upset you, but at least then you can help me through it._ "After my dream, and knowing Sawbones can still control you, I don't think I can sleep."

_That's exactly what I was afraid of happening,_ the man lamented. "Okay. What can I do to help with that? You can't just not sleep ever again."

"Well yeah," he rolled his eyes. "I know that."

"Why don't we start by talking about it?"

"…Can we talk about what we're going to do about Sawbones, too?" he asked seriously. "I really want to help with that. I think…I think helping keep him from controlling you will make the dreams go away. Or at least make them better."

_Oh, yeah, you're a certifiable dumbass, Bruce. _"I should have known," he shook his head, chuckling self-loathingly. _I __know__ you, so why didn't I realize that the thing you're most afraid of is feeling unable to do anything to fix the problem? _"I should have known that helping me fight him would be the best thing for you."

"…Maybe you're afraid, too?" he answered his unasked question.

"Huh? Oh." He pondered that. _Maybe he's right. That was the worst part of the mission, watching him be hurt and being unable to do anything to stop it. Complete lack of control is what I'm most on my guard about; it has to be. If he's been suffering from that same fear, it's no wonder that it's been so difficult for me to see. I've been avoiding examining the real reason behind his nightmares because thinking about it too much is likely to give me one._ "I think you might be on to something there, chum."

"So…can I help you?"

"You're my partner. Of course you can help me."

"Good," came a relieved little sigh. "Thank you."

"Thank _you_," he whispered back. "Now. Tell me about your dream."

"I…can we turn the light on first?"

"I'll do you one better. Let's go downstairs, and you can finish your snack while we talk."

"Yeah, that sounds good."

They paraded into the heart of the house to find Alfred waiting, an assortment of leftover Christmas cookies arrayed on a plate on the breakfast bar. Two glasses of milk marked their spots. "…Expecting company?" Bruce asked, arching an eyebrow.

"After a certain amount of time, Master Wayne, one develops a sixth sense for when something sweet is required," the butler replied mildly. _Well. Judging from the fact that they both appear to have been crying, I'd say that matters between them have been put back in order. _"Will I disturb you if I remain to roll out dough for the morning's repast, sirs?"

"…Are we having biscuits and gravy?" Dick asked, nearly choking as he swallowed a bite whole in his haste to inquire.

"Only if you agree to chew them more fully than you just demonstrated, young sir," Alfred answered, crossing his arms.

"…Sorry," he blushed slightly.

"In that case, Master Dick, then yes. I had intended to make biscuits and gravy for your breakfasts."

"Yay," the boy grinned.

"It's more likely to be brunch, however, if you're up much later," he said hintingly. _You both look exhausted, and while he is much better, Master Dick is still recovering. You both ought to go to bed._

"…We have a case to discuss," the billionaire shrugged. "I don't know how late we'll be up tonight."

"And it _is_ Sunday tomorrow," Dick reminded. "We could sleep in." _If I sleep at all._

"…Very well, then," the Englishman conceded, turning away and beginning to pull various baking supplies out.

As they made their way through the baked goods before them, the seated pair went back over everything they knew of Sawyer, the serum, and its effects. They both knew that Alfred was listening, too, and purposefully mentioned things that were common knowledge between the two of them just to let him catch up to speed.

"You have the remote, right?" Dick queried as their review wound down.

"It's downstairs."

"…Why don't we just destroy it?"

"That wouldn't stop him, and it could hurt us. He'll just build another one. Even if he doesn't have the plans, I'm sure he remembers enough of the basics to recreate it from scratch. If he does build a second one, we might be able to use the first to countermand his orders."

"…That sounds really dangerous. People _die_ when they disobey his orders." He shivered, remembering the terrible howl that had echoed in his dream when the man sitting beside him had managed that particular feat. "What if it creates, a whatchamacallit, a paradox, and triggers the brainsplosion?"

"Brainsplosion," they heard Alfred mutter, shaking his head. Neither could see the tiny grin on his face. _The things that boy comes up with…_

"It might," Bruce nodded. "But better that than a murderous Batman."

"Uh, _no_," Dick denied vigorously. "A _cure_ is better than a murderous Batman. Brainsplosion Batman isn't even an option."

"Here, here," came from the opposite counter. Having spoken at a higher volume than he meant to, the butler tried to cover his approval with a badly acted cough.

"If Sawyer gets a hold of me, kiddo, there might not be any choice," he explained gently.

The boy glared at him. "Since when does not killing people not extend to you?"

Bruce pursed his lips. _That's not the point. I'd rather be dead than hurt you the way he threatened to make me. The way you no doubt saw in your dream… _"Dick-"

"Nope." Turning away, he picked up one of the last cookies, examining it before he took a bite. He straightened suddenly, growing excited. "What if we just gave you an order not to obey any order given to you by Sawbones?"

"He could order someone else to order me to do things. It would slow down the process, unless he had more than one radio, but it would still be doable. Plus, we don't know that it works like that. The brain, especially the subconscious, might not even recognize discrete voices on that wavelength." Seeing his son's shoulders slump, he gave him a sad smile. "Sorry. Good try, though."

"…We could order you not to take _anyone's_ order? No, wait, that's even worse," he changed his mind. "Then what if someone gave you an order, and you ignored it because you were following the first order, but then somehow, like by accident or something, you followed the second order? Then you'd have disobeyed the first." He frowned. "Huh. Wow, this is _really_ complicated."

"Let's stick with just trying to cancel the orders he gives for now. We know orders can be reversed by someone other than the person who gave them. Kid Flash did it, and so did I."

"…We're going to have to be so careful, Bruce," Dick whispered. "There are so many ways that could go wrong. If he tells you to kill, and I tell you not to kill, and then something happens, I don't know, you bump into him and he falls off a cliff or something…that would be disobeying the order. It would kill you."

"…I wonder if an order can be rescinded after it's been disobeyed," the billionaire mused. "It's risky, but…"

"But if it's built into the serum that you die if you disobey an order, and then you _don't_ die, isn't that disobeying another order, technically?"

"…Huh." _If I didn't hate you Sawyer, I would really, really like the way you think. This is one hell of a puzzle. I don't get stumped easily, but you're managing it right now._

"…Yeah."

"I'm curious, now, if the coroner learned anything from the guard that _did_ die."

"…Did they do an autopsy? On…on my guy?"

"It wasn't your fault. We talked about this."

"I know." _I still feel kind of guilty, though._

Bruce sighed. "But you still feel bad?"

"Yeah…" A large hand came to rest on his shoulder. He turned to look at the man, and the sad glint in his eyes reminded him of something. "…Oh…oh, hey…wait a minute, I think I have an idea!"

"What is it?" he squeezed gently, encouraging him.

"Well…it's a long shot, okay? I mean, we definitely shouldn't try it unless we have no other option, but…well…" _But it was just a dream,_ a voice spoke up in the back of his head. _You want to risk his life for something you saw in a nightmare?_ _Besides, he broke free in the dream, but he __died__ right afterwards!_ "…Never mind. It's no good."

"What was it, anyway? I'm curious."

"We already know it won't work, Bruce. I forgot, you already tried it."

"Tried _what_, kiddo?"

"Breaking free of the serum."

"…Ah."

"See? I told you it was a bad idea."

'_It's ninety nine percent effective; a mere one percent are able to disobey or overcome the drug and the instructions I relay through it...' _The chemist's bragging replayed itself in his head. "…I'm not so sure it _is_ a bad idea, Dicky," he said slowly. "Sawyer said some people – a very small number of them, but still, some - _are_ able to disobey. So it isn't _entirely_ impossible."

"But you couldn't do it before, in the tunnels," he insisted. "And even in my dream, you-" _You died. You did it, but you died._ The words wouldn't form on his tongue, though, so he merely broke off.

"…I got free in your dream? How?"

"I don't know," he shook his head.

"Well, what was I doing right before?" _Please don't say what I think you're going to._

"…Beating the crap out of me."

Hearing those words, Alfred fumbled the measuring cup he held and spilled milk across the counter. "Oh, bloody hell," he mumbled, reaching for a rag. _And yet you sit there next to him, visibly calm, _he wondered. _Bloody hell, indeed._

The vigilantes exchanged a look. "So…" Bruce ventured finally, "maybe there's a trigger point. The person under his control has to be ordered to do something so completely against their personal ethics that they snap."

"…If he ordered you to kill _anyone_, that might be enough, don't you think?"

"No," the man grimaced. "Just because I don't do it doesn't mean it's bad enough under my code to let me break loose. But…" He swallowed hard, hating what he was about to say. "If he ordered me to hit you, that would do it."

"…I don't think that would be enough, either."

Eyes narrowing, he stared at his son. "What? Dick, I would _never_ hit you. Not like that. Not like he would be ordering me to."

But the boy was shaking his head firmly. "It wouldn't be enough, Bruce. At least…I mean, we're working off of the dream here, right?"

"Ye-es," he answered, suddenly cautious. _My god, how bad did that nightmare get before you woke up?_

"Well…you _were_ hitting me in the dream. That wasn't enough to do it, I know because…because you hit me more than once. And kicked me. And…" he bit his lip, looking away, "I'm pretty sure towards the end you basically turned my ankle into mush. I'm _sorry_," he begged, seeing his guardian blanch. Alfred had turned away from his work and half-crossed the little distance between them, attention clearly riveted to his words. "I just want to make sure you understand why I don't think that would be enough!"

"What _was_, then? What was enough?" _Please don't describe any more specifics of what I did,_ he thought miserably. _I don't want to know._

"He told you to kill me."

"…That would definitely be enough to make me break free," he opined, voice thick. "How do you know that's what he told me?"

"Because you said it was. After you shook him off, you told me that was what he'd wanted. Then-" His mouth worked, struggling to spit out the rest. _He has to know. He has to know, it's too dangerous for him to try, I never should have brought it up…_

"Then what, child?" the butler breathed.

"…Bruce, you died right after you told me that," he managed hoarsely, reaching over and gripping his wrist tightly. "In the dream. You broke free, but the serum still…it still…" His lower lip quivered, his eyes overflowed, and he couldn't form any further coherent words.

"Okay," the billionaire soothed, standing up beside him. "Okay. It was just a dream, chum. We're just speculating, it doesn't mean anything that you saw will come true. Hush, it's all right." _He's exhausted, he had that nasty nightmare, and this is an incredibly tough problem. We should stop for tonight,_ he decided, wrapping one arm around his shoulders and stroking his hair with the other. "It's all right. I'm right here, and Sawyer's in jail. He can't build _anything_ right now, except maybe a lame defense."

The barstool was at just the right level so that when Dick was pulled close against his guardian his head rested on his chest. His quiet sobs slowed as he concentrated on the steady thrumming beneath his ear. _Just a dream. I have to calm down. I have to…I have to help make it not happen. I __have__ to…_ "'M sorry…" he moaned. "I know this…this isn't useful…"

"You have nothing to apologize for."

"No, indeed not, young sir," Alfred contributed. He ached to reach over and comfort the child himself, but so long as his elder charge was present it wasn't his place. He held back, but his frustration was visible in the lines etching his face as he viewed their tableau.

"Listen to me," Bruce's voice reached Dick's ears from overhead. "Here's what we're going to do, okay? It's late. Sawyer's not going to be controlling _anyone_ tonight unless he somehow breaks out of jail, sneaks into the cave, and steals the remote back. And that's not going to happen. So," he perched back on the edge of his own chair, leaning forward and picking both of his son's hands up in one of his own, "we're going to go upstairs and go to sleep. No nightmares, no insomnia; just sleep. And tomorrow, when we wake up, we're going to have the amazing breakfast that Alfred's working on for us. Then we'll continue this discussion, when it's daylight and we've both had some rest."

"…You're not gonna work on it without me, are you?"

"No," he promised. "We're going to do it together, kiddo. But right now we both need a break. Okay?"

"…Okay," he agreed. "…Bruce?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you patrolling tonight? It's okay if you are," he insisted. _I know they need you. Still…Don't leave me?_

"It's gotten very cold since this morning," Alfred threw in quickly. _Don't you dare leave him like this._

"I think Gotham will survive until tomorrow. More than half of the night's gone anyway. By the time I got dressed and into the city there wouldn't be much time to do anything." _I don't think I could concentrate on anything but you even if I did go out, chum._ "…Let's go. Bedtime."

He carried him upstairs, rubbing his back as he sniffed occasionally. "C'n I sleep with you? Please?"

"Of course you can," he allowed immediately, turning into his bedroom. There was no room for debate as to how they would be sleeping; Dick clung to him like there was a static charge between them, and rather than argue Bruce just lay down and let the boy shift as he wanted. He slid his legs off to one side, but kept his head firmly over his living pillow's heart. _I don't know how that's a comfortable position, but I can guess why you're in it, _he sighed as he heard his breathing slow into sleep. _Whatever keeps the nightmares away._ _You're right here, and that's enough for me. But tomorrow…_ He glared at the dark ceiling. _Tomorrow we're going to figure that bastard out. There's got to be a way around him, and between you and I, kiddo, we'll find it._


	38. Chapter 38

Even if he could have maneuvered out from under him without waking him, Bruce knew better than to leave his still-slumbering child alone the next morning, no matter how good the smells coming up the stairs were. "…Dick?" he nudged him gently. "Hey. I think breakfast is almost ready."

"…Breakfast?" He still had faint circles under his eyes, but he smiled. "Biscuits and gravy?"

"You know it."

"Yum." He sat up, yawning.

"No nightmares, huh?"

He didn't answer for a moment, seemingly crafting his reply. "…No bad ones," he finally admitted.

_So you still had some. Damn it._ His own sleep had been undisturbed, at least as far as he could remember. "Okay," he nodded, holding back a sigh. _At least there wasn't any screaming or flailing around._ "Let's get downstairs, huh?"

Their rumpled attire and yawning would normally have earned them a slightly disdainful look from the butler, but this morning he simply greeted them and went to retrieve their plates. They ate wordlessly, the only sounds the occasional little moan of delight, and were just putting down their forks when Alfred reappeared. "I'll need to check your stitches again this morning, Master Dick," he announced.

"Aw, really? They don't hurt or anything."

"Yes, but considering that you've already had an infection and aren't known for sitting still even when you do not have stitches near a joint, I'd like to examine them. The dressing needs changed in any case. I will meet you in the cave once I've cleared the table."

"…If they look good," Bruce bribed him, "We'll take a ride on my snowmachine later. Deal?"

"Okay!" He bolted from his chair and around the table, grabbing Bruce's hand and tugging. "C'mon!"

"I'm coming," he smiled at his excitement. _It's amazing how handy that thing is for picking up his mood. _"If you're healing, I'll let you drive a little bit. _Just_ a little bit, though, and with me on the machine," he said once they were out of Alfred's hearing.

"Awesome!" he beamed as he pulled him down the hall towards the clock. "I can't wait until I can drive mine all by myself, though."

"Well, maybe you'll be able to by next Saturday," the billionaire said lightly. _It's as good a time as any to tell him about next weekend. The prospect of having a guest might keep him from getting overwrought again when we start discussing Sawyer._

"…What's next Saturday?" he peered up at him.

"Oh, that's the day I invited Barry and Wally over," he explained unconcernedly as they passed through the secret entrance. "I didn't think you'd mind, but we can always cancel it, if you want…"

_Wait… Flash and KF? But he used their civilian names…they're coming over as civilians?!_ "You…you mean we get to be like normal people together?"

"If you want to. Like I said, there's still time to cancel…" He could barely hold back his grin as he teased him.

"No!" came a squealed response. "No, don't cancel! They're really coming over without costumes? They can come upstairs and everything?"

"Yes."

"So…Can Wally and I ride my snowmachine?"

"If your stitches are out and Alfred says you won't hurt your shoulder, then yes. So long as Wally's allowed and you don't go sixty miles an hour, that is."

"Eep!" Bruce looked down, clearly amused by his squeak. "I'm so excited!"

"Good." They reached the bottom of the stairs. "Here, we can get started without Alfred."

"…Bruce?" he stood, frowning slightly as he looked around the cave.

"What is it?"

"…Where is it? The remote?"

"It's safe, kiddo."

"I know, but…well, if I need it, I should know where it is, right? Just shouting at you won't overrule Sawbones' orders. I need the controller."

_And the last thing I want you doing is having to search for it if I'm trying to hurt you,_ he grimaced in agreement. "It's over in the evidence corner," he nodded towards the area where they kept items pertaining to their current cases.

"…Can I see it? I didn't really get to before." _I was a little distracted by having been shot._

"Let's do that after, okay? I'll show you the remote, and then we can keep talking about Sawyer. If you want to," he added. "Remember, it's okay if you don't. If you're scared, or-"

"I'm helping you with this, Bruce," cut him off determinedly, crossing his arms and giving the man a slightly defiant look. The set of his jaw left no room for argument.

_Wonder where you picked up that expression,_ the man chuckled to himself. "I'm glad you are, chum. But I want you to know that I won't think any less of you if it gets to be too much, okay?" _Hell, you're only nine. Bravery's one thing, but I really don't know how you're bearing up under everything that's happened lately._

"I know," he nodded solemnly. "But you need me."

"Yes," he replied gravely. "I do." A moment passed. "Now, come on. We'll get your bandage changed, work on Sawyer for a while, and then once we've solved it or we're ready for a break we'll take a little spin." He boosted him onto the exam table. "I'll be right back."

"I hope this isn't as ugly as it was last time. It was gross last weekend,"

the boy stated as he peeled off his pajama shirt and began picking at the tape securing gauze over the wound.

"It was a lot more swollen then, kiddo. It should look much better now, trust me."

"…You're right," he agreed, lifting the dressing away and taking it in. The gash in his shoulder was mostly closed into a fresh pink scar, and the only part of the injury that he found disturbing to look at was the trail of black sutures overlaying it.

"Let me see," Bruce appeared at his side and gently pushed his head out of the way. "You're making a shadow."

"Sooorry. It's kind of attached to me, you know," he joked, bending his neck so the man could get a clearer look.

"…It looks okay," the billionaire decided finally.

"I'll be the judge of that, if you please, Master Wayne," Alfred interjected politely as he approached.

"Go for it."

"Hmm…" Pulling on a glove, he prodded both ends with one finger.

"Ow."

"…Was that actually painful, Master Dick, or merely a standard reaction?"

"Kinda both. It's sore."

"I thought you swore upstairs that it didn't hurt?"

"Well, it didn't until you poked it."

"Get used to it, chum. Alfred's got a thing for pushing on stitches to see if they're ready to come out," Bruce advised dourly as he recalled the uncountable occasions on which the butler had done the same to him.

"You didn't poke them before now," Dick pouted as a fresh dressing was laid in place.

"The wound wasn't healed enough for me to risk it before, young sir. Today, however, it was. I maintain that we can remove them in the next few days, but for now a little more time won't hurt anything." He swiftly secured the cover and stepped away. "There you are. Please continue to refrain from using that arm unless necessary."

"Okay," he grumbled. _I'm so bored just sitting around. I want to climb something, or swing around a little, or…or __something__._

Sensing his chagrin, Bruce patted his knee. "You'll feel better after we do a little case work and get some fresh air."

"Yeah," the boy sighed. "I guess." Hopping down from the table, he gave his guardian an expectant look. "The remote?"

"Over here."

As he held it a moment later, Dick bit his lip. "…I don't like this thing, Bruce. It feels…evil."

"Evil?" he nearly laughed.

"Yeah. I know it _isn't_," he said, "but I still don't like it. I don't like what it can do to you."

Sobering, the billionaire nodded. "I can understand that."

"I still wish we could just destroy it."

"You know we can't. We need it intact."

"I know." He set it back on the shelf gingerly, making a face. The object hadn't actually been dirty, but he scrubbed his hand across his pants in any case, feeling a little better once his skin was tingling from the friction. "So…what's next? How about his lab? Have you been there?"

"If we knew where it was, that would be a great place to start," Bruce admitted. "But, as you so aptly pointed out yesterday evening, this is the man who fell off the face of the earth so completely that neither the JLA nor the federal government could find him for five years." He'd looked for the chemist's hideout every evening since the mission, the only exceptions being Christmas and last night, going back over the massive file he'd collected when he was missing, checking out potential new leads, and still finding nothing. "His lab is proving just as invisible."

"Have you talked to him? To Sawbones? Did you go see him after he was arrested?"

"…No." He'd asked Gordon about seeing him when they were down in the tunnels, and been told that the feds had the prisoner in total lockdown. No one other than Woodward's men were being allowed near him until the provisions came through to remove him to Washington for trial. "I considered infiltrating their safeguards," he added after he'd shared that information, "but at this point it isn't worth riling them. We may find that we need Woodward on our side before this is all over, and he won't be very amenable to helping us if we make him look bad or do something that, to his mind, could jeopardize his goals in regards to Sawyer."

"…He's on our side, right? Woodward? I know you said he was, but…"

"But I haven't been entirely honest lately," he finished for him. "I understand, kiddo. I told you the truth about Woodward, though. He's all right."

"Then you'd think he'd let you in to see Sawbones," Dick countered.

"I said he's all right, not that he's another Jim Gordon. Plus, there's a big difference in their ranks. Gordon pretty much only answers to the governor and the attorney general, except in cases like these, and they tend to keep their hands out of Gotham anyway. It's too dirty for their tastes unless they're claiming they have plans to clean it up around election time. Woodward has superiors he has to answer to, though, and if they told him to keep all outsiders away from Sawyer, he'd be risking a lot to let me in. His entire life, really; once you lose a security clearance of the level he has, you generally don't get it back. Never mind the fact that the federal government and Batman don't exactly have a great working history. Being arrested and tried as a potential terrorist conspirator doesn't sound like a very good way to spend New Years." _With my luck, they'd make me share a cell with that bastard._

The child gaped at him. "Who did you tick off?"

"…A lot of people. Superman's more the one for dealing with the bureaucrats." He tapped him on the nose. "Remember that, it's useful information."

"Okay," he nodded, still intrigued. "Are you gonna tell me the story? Why the government doesn't like you, besides the obvious 'vigilante' reason?""

"Not until you're _much_ older."

"Aww, c'mon! It could be important."

"Sure it could. And if I ever take you on a mission that involves us chasing a transsexual Chinese double agent through the tunnels under the National Archives while wearing little more than masks, I'll be sure to explain. But I'm hoping that sort of mission never happens again."

"…Wait…you mean…I mean…_just masks_?"

"When you're older," he repeated, smirking. "So no, I haven't talked to Sawyer."

_You know, I probably __don't__ really want to know the details. _"…And we can't get a tracer on him, either, if we can't get near him," Dick mused. "Dang it! This is really hard! _Way_ harder than any of the old cases you gave me," he accused.

"I have to tell you, this is one of the most difficult puzzles I've faced," he confessed, leading him back into the main part of the cave and waving for him to sit in one of the computer chairs. Seating himself and swiveling to face the boy, he continued. "There aren't many avenues left open for us to pursue."

"…But you have one, don't you? You have _some_ idea?"

"I do. Right now the guards are locked down, too, per Woodward's orders. But," he went on, "that's just because they're hoping they'll start moving. Which they won't, since they're still under the order I gave them a week ago not to. Since they can't move, they can't talk, and since the federal government does not, to my knowledge at least, have any mind readers, whatever is in their heads is still unknown. But Woodward won't stay in Gotham forever; Sawyer's a dangerous commodity, especially if anyone else knows what he was into. He won't want to be responsible for him any longer than he has to be. As soon as he's gone, we can get in to talk to the guards."

"Can't Commissioner Gordon get us in now?"

Bruce made a face. "He has to follow Homeland Security's orders. Once they aren't breathing down his neck quite so strongly, though, I'm positive we can get him to let us in. I've already put in the request, so it's in the works. If Batman's credit isn't enough, we'll deploy the infamous Robin pout," he kicked jestingly at one of his son's dangling feet, drawing a giggle.

"Is it infamous?"

"It will be." _Especially about the time you get interested in girls. All it's going to take is one paparazzo getting a shot of that kicked puppy look…that photographer will never want for work again once that breaks._ "And I'm extremely confident that it will work on Gordon. He was pretty stunned when I told him that you and Kid Flash took down all those men the other night. So was Woodward."

"We impressed the Commissioner _and_ someone from Homeland Security?" he asked, eyes like platters. "_Whoa…_KF's gonna love that!" His good mood flattened quickly, though, as he fretted over the roadblocks that kept appearing in their path. "You'd think they'd want to help you more, Bruce. Can't the Commissioner talk to Woodward, try to convince him to let you at least talk to the guards?"

"I'm sure he could, but you have to remember that they don't know I was given the serum."

"…Oh. I forgot about that." He paused. "…You could tell them?"

"No," he shook his head vigorously. "First off, the mere fact that Batman could be mind controlled would make it more difficult for Gordon to make excuses for himself when we ask him to bend the rules. And I wouldn't blame him for that, either. I'm a little suspicious of myself, to be honest, Dick."

"You haven't done anything strange," he assured him quickly. "Alfred or I would have told you."

"I know, chum. Thanks." _But you're not around me __all__ the time,_ he didn't think it necessary to point out. "Gordon aside, like I said, Batman and the government aren't exactly friends. They might try to hold me for 'observation' – which, guaranteed, would result in my identity being revealed – or, worse yet, they might try to control me themselves. That last one is pretty far-fetched, but it isn't the first government-driven mind control theory that's ever been seriously proposed, either. Sure, Batman could disappear for a while if they tried an arrest, but that would hamstring our efforts. It could also hurt their case against Sawyer, if they have reason to question the evidence I supplied them with. Plus, openly upping hostilities with the government isn't a very good way to maintain any sort of reputation as a crusader for justice, unless the government itself is so unjust as to warrant it. What they're doing right now is inconvenient, but it's hardly unjust."

"…But if they could help," Dick puzzled.

"Think about it the same way we've been letting more and more people know about Robin," Bruce explained. "We kept it under wraps for a pretty long time, and are still keeping it a little bit secret, because we didn't want the really nasty bad guys to know about you for as long as possible, right?"

"Right."

"Well, imagine if all those people we didn't want to know about Robin suddenly found out that something had been changed in my brain to make me susceptible to mind control. How many of them do you think would try and figure out how to use that, or even try to get Sawyer out of prison in order to either help him with his plan or use him to get control of me?"

"I get it," he said quickly. "I don't need details. I'm good. The fewer people who know, the better," he nodded, just able to imagine what the Joker would come up with for a mind-controlled Batman to do. He shuddered hard. _Making him hurt or kill me would just be the start…_

"Still okay over there?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just…thinking." He chewed at his lip. "So…no lab. No Sawyer. But maybe the guards."

"Right. The last I heard from Gordon, Woodward was hoping to move Sawyer tomorrow night. The Commissioner knows I want to speak to _somebody_ who came out of that warehouse in cuffs; as soon as he can get us in, we'll know."

"…You hate the waiting, too, don't you?"

He met his eyes. "You're probably the only person in the world who even stands a chance of knowing how much I hate it, Dicky. But I've followed every lead I can think of to either a dead end or a roadblock that isn't worth trying to circumvent at this point. So long as Sawyer is under arrest and we don't have reason to believe that anyone else has picked up where he left off – which I seriously doubt, since the man's a narcissist who's never been good at sharing if he thought there was any chance he wouldn't have completely control and get all the credit – we're better off waiting and trying to play by the rules. We should be concerned, and we should keep working on it, but it's not an emergency at this very moment."

"This is partly my fault," the boy realized.

"…What?"

"If I hadn't gotten hurt, you could have interrogated Sawbones the night of the mission. But you didn't, did you? You didn't because you were in a hurry to get to me." He hung his head. "We might have been able to reverse it in time, or found another way to cure it."

"…This is _not_ your fault. You did what you had to do to get us free. And you didn't plan to get hurt like you were, I know that. Your plan was very good, Dick. It was the kind of thing Batman would have come up with. And you've asked all the right questions today, too; I can tell you've been studying those case files I gave you, because you suggested all of the things I thought of already. So don't blame yourself. If anyone is to blame, it's me."

"How do you get that?"

"Well, remember what I said last night about my being weak when it comes to you?"

"…Yes."

"This is an example. If it had been anyone else that Flash had run off with, I'd have stayed and questioned Sawyer. But it was you, and I couldn't…I couldn't not know that you were okay."

"…I think you're going to have to work on that. You can't just leave a mission because I get hurt and you're worried."

Bruce smiled sadly. "I think you're right, kiddo. But it's not going to be an easy task." He leaned forward. "The easiest way would be for you to just not get hurt anymore."

"It wasn't really my idea of a fun time. I can't even ride my snowmachine because of that stupid guard shooting the wall."

"No, you can't," he agreed. "But you _can_ ride with me on mine. What do you think? You want to go for a ride before lunch?"

"Are we going to work on this some more afterwards?"

"…I don't really know what else we can say or do about it at this point, other than rehashing it all and hoping some new angle emerges, but if you want to do that, I'm more than willing."

"We'll just have to go over it and over it until we figure something out," the boy said firmly.

_Child after my own heart,_ the billionaire thought affectionately. _Oh wait, it's already in his pocket. Never mind._ "Sure. But it won't hurt to give your mind a little rest, too. Sometimes distraction is the best way to solve a seemingly unsolvable problem."

"Distraction? So…does that mean I can go out on patrol with you tonight? Because catching some bad guys would be a really _great _distraction."

"You have stitches. You're not going out. But you can still stay up late and work on your files until I get home. Okay?"

"…All right. And you'll tell me all about what you did, right?"

"Of course I will." He stood up and stretched. "Now, you'd better go upstairs and put on some day clothes. If you hurry, we might have time to go all the way to the north hill."

"Meet you outside!" he scrambled out of his chair and dashed for the stairs.

Bruce watched him go, a smile in his eyes. _I don't know what I'd do without you, chum. Just…do me a favor and stay with me forever, okay?_


	39. Chapter 39

That evening, Dick sprawled on the floor of Bruce's study, a book open in front of him. After their cold but fun ride out to the north hill, they'd fallen back into the mind control issue, reviewing not only what they knew about Sawbones and his serum but also branching out and researching the idea of mind control itself. They'd found plenty of conspiracy theories – including, the boy had noted as he was reading, several aimed at the government, just like Bruce had said earlier – but nothing really useful. He'd wanted to keep going after dinner, but his guardian had insisted that he take a break and do something else. So he'd grabbed something off of his bookshelves without bothering to look and see what it was, and now lay silently in front of the fireplace, flipping a page occasionally to keep up the illusion that he was actually involved in the story.

_It's weird,_ he reflected, _but helping with this has made me a lot less afraid of it. _He certainly still feared the things that Batman could be made to do under the serum, but knowing what was going on at least made him feel like all the possible steps towards a solution were being taken. _I sure can't come up with anything else to do right now,_ he sighed quietly. _And I think I'm still going to have nightmares, maybe just not as bad of ones…_

"_…_Dick?"

He craned his neck around to face the man behind the desk. "Yes?"

"You're still thinking about it, aren't you?"

"I'm _reading_, Bruce."

"Well, what are you reading, then?"

_Uhh…_ He glanced at the cover as covertly as he could, and blushed. _Figures. I couldn't have picked up something new?_ "…A Tale of Two Cities," he muttered.

"Really? Again?" He was leading him on, but it was cute to see him try and hide the fact that he'd been musing over the case again. _You weren't reading, kiddo. You go much faster than a page every five minutes or so. _

"It's a good book," he defended.

"Sure. I'm just surprised that you decided to go through that again before you finished all your new stories."

"I…" _Crud. He totally knows._ Seeing the laughter in his eyes from halfway across the room, he flopped over onto his back and sighed up at the ceiling in defeat. "Okay, okay, I was thinking about Sawbones."

"Do I have to come over there are start tickling you to get your mind off of him?" _Seriously, kiddo, you need to concentrate on something else for a little while._

"No," he smiled.

"…Maybe I'll just come over anyway…" he half-rose from his seat.

"No!" he protested, giggling. Tickle fights with Bruce always ended the exact same way, with Dick pinned helplessly under waves of squealing laughter and whatever gentle-but-effective hold the billionaire thought would give him best access to the boy's ticklish spots. "I'll think of something else, I swear! Besides," he excused, "I have stitches, remember?"

"Hmm, you're right," he dropped back into his chair. "Alfred would kill me."

"Right."

"Ahem." The appearance of the aforementioned butler in the doorway drew both of their attentions. "Sir, the signal has just come up."

"Dick, come downstairs with me," Bruce was suddenly all business.

"…Okay," he half-shrugged, climbing to his feet. _I thought you said I couldn't go on patrol until my stitches came out,_ he puzzled. _But I'm definitely not going to remind you about that…_

Alfred had no such qualms, however. "Master Wayne, surely you aren't taking him with you? He's still healing, he's in no fit state to swing about the city and get into brawls."

"I'm making a phone call before I go anywhere," he informed him as he brushed past. "I won't take him if this isn't what I hope it is." _If Woodward left town a little early, maybe we can get in to see the guards tonight. With any luck, that's why Gordon's got the signal lit._

Downstairs, he quickly dialed the Commissioner. "Gordon," he growled when the line was picked up.

Behind him, Dick watched with a bemused expression. _It's so funny to hear the Batman voice coming from someone wearing slippers,_ he thought, biting back a snort of mirth.

"…Fine. We're on our way." He paused, eyes narrowing. "Yes, _we._" With that, he slammed down the receiver. "I swear, it's like he can't get it through his head that I have a partner now."

"…Do I really get to go with you?" _Even with stitches? _

"Yes. Get changed. Gordon's letting us see the guards, and I'd like you there with me." The broad smile he received at those words more than made up for the look he knew he'd be getting later from Alfred.

Robin was ready first, and flitted over to the evidence corner. Holding the radio out in front of him as if it emanated some kind of negative vibe, he carried it to his mentor and offered it up. "I know we need this to make it so that the guards can talk, but I'm not holding it the whole way there," he said decisively. "It's…icky."

"It would be too obvious on you, anyway," the man agreed, taking it and tucking it into his belt. "Remember, none of them know we have the remote, and we don't _want_ them to know."

"So long as I don't have to touch it." He couldn't explain the crawling feeling it gave him.

"You're going to have to touch it if Sawyer gets loose."

"…I know. But until that happens, I don't want to."

They didn't speak in the car, but Robin couldn't keep his legs still, eager as he was to get down to things with the men in Gordon's custody and hopefully get something useful from them. Behind the wheel, Batman, too, was impatient to get to the station, but he expressed it via eighty mile an hour turns rather than through complicated dance steps above the floorboards. They were parking in a deserted street a few blocks from the building beaming the signal skyward when the boy spoke. "…I hope these guys know something."

"If they do, we'll get it from them."

"…Yeah," he shifted uncomfortably as they climbed out of the car. _He's going to use the radio to force them, I'll bet. I wish he wouldn't. Still, if they won't talk…_

"Can you hold on with just one hand, or do I need to carry you to the roof with me?" the cowled figure asked him once they stood in back of the police station.

"I'm fine with one hand," he answered.

"…Okay. You go ahead." _At least that way I can catch you if you fall._

"I'm not going to fall, Batman."

"I know. Go first anyway." He watched tensely as his partner obeyed, zipping silently up to the top of the building and rolling over the raised edge. Letting out a long breath when he was secure, he fired his own grapple and rose into the night. The brightly-clad child was waiting patiently for him, and the dark-clad man ran a gloved hand over his hair for the briefest of moments before leading the way to their entrance point.

Despite the fact that all of the lights in the Commissioner's office were blazing, neither Gordon nor Woodward noticed the duo until Batman was ready for them to. The federal agent didn't jump when he spotted them over the other man's shoulder, and his stock rose a little in the vigilante's head. "Why am I not surprised that you didn't come in with fanfare?" he queried.

"What?" Gordon looked confused for a moment, then closed his eyes with a long-suffering expression and turned around. "Batman. And…Robin," he smiled falteringly as he saw the smaller hero.

"So _this_ is the kid who took down all those gangsters, huh?" Woodward asked rhetorically.

Robin glanced up at his mentor and, receiving a small nod, replied. "It wasn't just me. A friend of mine helped."

"Another kid, though."

"…Yes?" _Why does that matter?_

He dropped on one knee and seemed to study him for several seconds. "…And I suppose you already know my name and basic information," he stated, his voice almost a whisper as he considered the boy. _I don't know who you are under that mask, kid, but if he trains you to be even half as good as he is, you'd be a hell of a recruit for me to snag in ten years or so._

"He's been briefed, Woodward," Batman cut in roughly. _Quit staring at him like he's an interesting bug you want for your collection. He's mine. _

Chuckling, he regained his full height. "You weren't expecting to see me here, were you? Figured I'd taken my man and left the poor unfortunates for Gordon to deal with?"

"I understood that your orders were to keep the guards and Sawyer isolated." _So why am I here, if you still are?_

"They were." He moved a few paces away and leaned against the desk. "But I also had orders to figure out what exactly he was working on, and I'm not having a whole lot of luck with that. So I figured I'd bring in a master," he picked at his fingernails unconcernedly. "Someone I suspect already has more information than I do. Someone," his eyes rose to stare at the lenses of the cowl, "who might be willing to do a trade." He waited a moment for a response, then plowed ahead when he received none. "You share what you already know with me, and I let you see the guards and Sawyer. Although you should know that he's still barely said a word that went beyond telling us that his plan was so brilliant we'll never figure it out."

"…What do you want to know?" _This opens up a lot of possibilities, but if he starts asking for things I don't want to share, we're done._

"You'll cooperate?"

Robin stiffened. _That sounds like something you'd say to someone who was under arrest, not a person you wanted to make a deal with,_ he fretted, remembering what had been said earlier that day about what was likely to happen if Batman were taken into federal custody. _They'll unmask him. They can't!_

"…Meaning what?"

"You'll answer my questions?"

"To a point."

"This is a federal investigation, Batman."

_Good for you. And here I thought you were okay. _He turned to leave, feeling Robin preparing to follow him without needing to be told. _Good boy._

"…Wait!" Woodward called just before they reached the door, concession clear in his voice. "All right. You win. Hell, something's still better than nothing; you tell me what you want, and I'll at least let you see the guards. Give me enough, and I'll let you see Sawyer. Deal?"

A beat of silence passed. "Fine." He swiveled back around and resumed his spot, crossing his arms. "Sawyer created a base serum for the mind control, then worked it into the heroin. He controls his victims from long distance via transmissions on a specialized frequency. If a victim disobeys an order, even by accident or because it was out of their control, they die immediately."

"…Is that it?"

"Yes."

"We need to see his lab. Do you know where it is?"

"No."

"You know if anyone who wasn't under his control was working for him?"

"No."

"Do you know how to reverse the effects of the mind control?"

"No." _Not by this long after they've been injected, anyway._

"Shit." Pursing his lips, he straightened. "All right, I'll let you see the guards."

"What about Sawyer?" was growled back. _He's the one I really need._

"I'm still thinking about that. Follow me."

Batman nodded for Gordon to go ahead of them, glancing down and squeezing his partner's good shoulder in the second that bought them. _If Woodward tries to have me arrested,_ _run. Don't let them catch you._

"…Superman?" Robin mumbled back. A minuscule nod was the only answer he needed, and once he'd received it he fell into line, trooping out behind the Commissioner without another word. He couldn't have seen his mentor's eyes through the lenses even if he'd looked back, but he felt the warmth in the gaze on the back of his neck, and a smile crept across his lips. _We're going to figure this out. The guards will help, and maybe he can even talk to Sawbones._

"Well, here they are," Woodward indicated with a sweep of his arm several floors and half a building later. Sixteen hospital beds filled a broad room that Batman assumed from the piles of chairs along one wall was usually used for mass briefings. "Yours to choose from. There are more in the next room; between the ones upstairs in the warehouse and down in the tunnels, we picked up about thirty guys."

"I'll speak with them individually."

"I'll get you a room nearby," Gordon nodded.

"Whoa, hold up. They don't move, so how's that going to work? You can't make them, you'll kill them. One accidentally developed a muscle spasm a few days ago and dropped dead. We've got medical staff here around the clock, and now we've had to start bringing in physical therapists and giving them muscle relaxers just to keep them alive. How the hell are you proposing to talk to them? The ones who have their eyes open don't even control their own blinking, for god's sake; look, it's perfectly timed. Every four seconds."

Robin picked a blank stare and began counting. _One-one thousand; two-one thousand; three-one thousand; four-one thousand; oh, that's creepy,_ he shivered when the timing proved correct.

"…Just have whichever one Robin picks for me to start with wheeled into a room."

"You're letting the kid choose?" Woodward raised an eyebrow.

"Is that a _problem_?"

"No," he shook his head. "Just…unorthodox."

"That's the way he likes it, Woodward," Gordon sighed. "I warned you." _I can't believe you brought the boy. The heist was bad enough, but I thought the scene with Sawyer might have knocked some sense into you. I guess not._

"If orthodox tactics worked more frequently, my presence in this city would be unnecessary." He looked at his son, who had been scanning the expressionless faces since overhearing his task assignment. "Robin?"

He only recognized one of them in this room, and he wasn't sure he'd have any more information than the others, but at least it was a familiar face to start with. "That one," he pointed to someone midway down the line.

"You're the boss, apparently," Woodward shrugged, seeing his choice. "Hey, nurse!"


	40. Chapter 40

"You'll know when we're done," Batman growled, closing the door in Woodward's face. Turning, he crossed the narrow interrogation room and took a seat opposite the guard in the wheelchair, sparing a glance for Robin, who stood waiting in the corner. _All of these rooms have one-way mirrors, and Woodward's a fool if he's not watching. "_…What made you choose this one?"

"He's the only one I really remembered seeing." He'd seen the way his mentor had scanned the edges of the chamber and grimaced upon entering, and surmised that GCPD interrogation rooms were like those in the movies. _If that's the case, then someone could be seeing and hearing everything,_ he thought._ So I need to say things carefully, and try not to give away anything Batman wants to keep secret._

_The only one you remembered? The only reason I can think of for one of them stand out that much to you is…_ He tensed, bristling as he realized."This is the one who…?"

"Well, yeah…" _I didn't really want you to figure that out, I was afraid you'd hurt him. _"But…he was really nice about it afterwards," he insisted, remembering how the man had checked him over to make sure he wasn't too badly injured. _Even if that __was__ just because he had a subconscious order to keep me alive, he was still a lot nicer than anyone else who's ever tried to hurt me. _ "And he's under the serum, I mean, he might not even have _wanted_ to, you know?"

"Mm." _He does have a point there._ Despite that fact, he couldn't get his lips to untangle from their deadly frown as he crossed his arms. His hand came to rest on the radio, which he'd hung from his belt so that he could use it while his body and elbow more or less covered his motions. _I just hope it transmits properly without being right up against my face..._ "You," he jabbed his chin at the guard as he leaned forward. "Don't make me get angry. Talk to me, right now."

The man's blinking dissolved into a flurry, and his eyes rolled around the room before coming to rest on the child. "Please, don't hurt me," he begged. "I didn't mean to hurt him, I swear to god I was just trying to scare him-"

"You will answer all of my questions," he cut him off before he gave too much away about the fact that Robin was injured. "To the best of your ability," he added quickly. _I rescinded all of their orders other than to stay still, but I don't know if the memory orders work the same way. Memory is so much more complicated than basic physical control that they might not. If any of the orders Sawyer gave him to make him forget things weren't lifted, I don't want to give him a contradictory direction and get him killed._ "What's your name?"

"Don Reznik."

"How do you know Daniel Sawyer?"

"Who?"

"Sawbones."

"Oh. Mr. Sawbones, he…hired a bunch of us to guard some cargo for him."

Noting the pause, Batman looked over at his partner. "He's just like the other one," the boy nodded, recognizing the expression in his eyes as the same look that the guard who had died in the warehouse had worn when asked something that was blocked.

_Proceed carefully, then. _"What kind of cargo?"

"…Heroin."

_Another lie. __He__ wasn't there for the heroin, which makes sense since he was downstairs. _His mind flew. _He must have been part of the crew that moved Flash and I down into the tunnels. They were guarding us, not the drugs._ "Where did the heroin come from?"

"It came in on a boat."

"From where? Upstream, downstream?" There had been no way for him to tell from the rafters, as the transport was already turned into shore by the time he saw it.

"I don't know, I wasn't on the boat crew."

"Do you know what the men who _were_ look like?"

"Yes."

"Do you know where Sawyer's – Sawbones' – lab is?"

"…He has a lab?"

"…Robin?"

He shook his head. _Not a cover, at least I don't think. He just looked confused, not like he was scrambling to think of something._

"Was anyone else working with him? Anyone else giving orders?"

"Not that I ever heard of."

_Damn. That both simplifies and complicates things. I'd like to know what Sawyer blocked, but I'd be playing with this man's life. The basic rescindment wasn't enough, obviously. I wonder if it's just the memory orders that evade that command, or if other types do, as well? I __need__ to talk to Sawyer._

"Have you seen or heard anything about any serum, or mind control, or anything like that?"

"…No."

_Whoa,_ Robin breathed, hoping he'd controlled his facial expression well enough. _He __does__ know something, but __what__?_

_I wish we'd brought Martian Manhunter with us,_ Batman, who had also caught that there was more in Reznik's mind than he could admit to, reflected. _Once Woodward is really gone, I'll try bringing him in with me, see if he can get past the blocks they've set up in their own minds…_ "Anything else you want to ask?" he addressed his partner.

"…No."

"You're going to point out one of the men who was on the boat crew to the nurse," he ordered the guard. He went to the door, where a crisply professional attendant was waiting for him to finish with the prisoner. Neither Gordon nor Woodward, he noted, were visible in the hallway. _Watching. Of course._ "Take this man away and bring me the person he indicates." She bustled in, loosened the brakes on Reznik's wheelchair, and was about to pull him back from the table when she caught sight of Robin, still standing with his back in the corner. She paused, her expression creasing into one of intense concern and disbelief as it traveled between him and Batman. "_Problem?"_ the cowl asked dangerously, not quite growling but coming close. Paling, she shook her head and removed her charge from the room swiftly.

They waited silently, both assuming that they were still being observed. When ten minutes had passed, Batman stopped circling the table and knelt in front of his son. "Do you need anything?" He paused. "A drink, maybe?" _This shouldn't take this long. _

_There's a water fountain in the hall right outside the room the guards are being kept in,_ Robin remembered. _I'll bet he wants me to go check and see what's holding them up._ "I _am_ thirsty," he nodded. _Play it up. Make it believable._ "But I don't want you to start without me."

"I'll wait if they come back before you." He stepped away, giving him space to leave.

Robin padded silently down the hall towards the water fountain. Halfway there, he heard Woodward's voice. "You're lying, Reznik, I know you are."

"I don't know anything about any lab," the prisoner replied, starting to sound a little desperate.

_He really doesn't,_ the boy wanted to round the corner and tell the federal agent. _But if I tell you, you'll want to know how I know, and I'm pretty sure Batman doesn't want to share that with you._ He turned on the fountain and let his lips hover centimeters away, pretending to drink. Just as he prepared to pull away, Woodward asked another question.

"…What were you _really_ there for that night, Reznik? You weren't there to guard any heroin, they were taking that out of there in trucks, for distribution. You were downstairs in the tunnels, not up with the product." His volume was rising as he continued to have difficulties getting what he wanted.

_Oh, no, stop!_ His eyes widened beneath his mask. _If you push him too hard on that the serum will kill him!_

"I…I was there to guard…for Mr. Sawbones…"

Robin returned to the room as fast as he dared. _Don't run, you might give away that you know more than they do about this,_ he tried to restrain his feet.

"Reznik, _somebody_ pulled heavy-duty shackles out of concrete in the room we found Sawyer in. _Somebody_ left fresh blood all over that floor. Sawyer didn't bleed that much, and there wasn't anybody else in the room when we got there, which means they got away." The words followed the young vigilante to the door, which he opened wide as he entered so that Batman could hear. "What – or should I say _who_ – were you really guarding?"

_Son of a bitch. _He had resumed his previous position, arms crossed in his chair with his thumb brushing the transmit button on the radio, as soon as he'd been alone, a decision that rewarded him now. "You know, Robin, I'm surprised that Reznik didn't go to sleep right here at the table," he commented, sounding as if he were merely making an observation even as his hand tightened subtly on the remote.

"Yeah," he nodded, picking up on the thread immediately. "I know I'd be exhausted after only being able to blink for a week. Strange how he snapped out of it like that when he did, huh? Maybe there's a time limit on the serum?" He knew that wasn't the case, but it seemed like the sort of thing someone who didn't know any more than the police did might say.

_Throw him off track. Nice job. _"That could be. Their bodies must have managed some level of sleep despite the fact that they couldn't close their eyes, but it can't have been very restful."

"What the hell did you do?!" Woodward burst in suddenly, all but shoving Robin aside as he rushed past him. Gordon was on his heels, but entered with greater caution. "He doesn't talk until he's in a room with you, and then right as I'm about to get something out of him he falls asleep and can't be woken up. Tell me what you did, or I'm gonna have to start thinking you were involved in this whole plan of Sawyer's."

"Apologize."

"…What?"

"Apologize to Robin. You struck him when you came in." He'd seen the agent's hand, balled into an angry fist, connect with the boy's shoulder almost directly on top of his stitches. Had it been a deliberate blow Batman was sure the sutures would have popped, but it had just glanced off, more a hard brushing of knuckles than anything. _I'm sure it still didn't feel very good, though._

"I…what?" It was such an unexpected course change that it threw him off balance for a second. The agent glanced back to where he stood, cradling his bad arm and biting the inside of his lip, trying to keep a look of pain off of his face. "Are you kidding me? You take him on heroin busts and let gangsters shoot at him in parking lots, and that's fine, but I bump into him at the door and you want an apology?"

"Criminals lack common courtesy. I expect more from the people who claim to be on our side."

Woodward drew back a little, then laughed quietly. _You are one screwed up guy, Batman. I kind of like it._ "All right," he nodded. "I apologize."

"To _him_, not to me."

"I apologize," he turned to Robin as he spoke.

"…It's okay."

"There, you happy now? Can we continue?"

"We can continue to Sawyer."

"I'll think about Sawyer when you explain how you got Reznik to talk."

"I don't know the specifics any more than you do. However, Robin suggested that there may be a time limit on the mind control."

"That'd mean Reznik had to be the first one of the bunch that Sawyer got his hands on. Awfully convenient that the guy you wanted to talk to is the first one who woke up. And it doesn't explain why he passed out in the middle of my interview after he didn't even look tired during yours."

Batman was silent. _I have no good answer for that,_ he grimaced internally.

"…Maybe he was more scared of Batman than he was of you," Robin piped up. Three sets of adult eyes swiveled to him.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Woodward demanded.

"Well…" he looked to his mentor, who inclined his head permissively. "You're not from around here, so maybe you don't know, but…a lot of people in Gotham are really afraid of Batman. Bad people, I mean. He's kind of, you know, a legend to them. They don't want to find themselves answering to him, that's for sure." He paused. "So…Reznik was probably super tired from being kind of awake all this time - we were talking about that right before you came in – but when he realized he had to sit through Batman's questions, he would have been freaked out, too. It might even have been enough to shock him out of his stupor a little, which would explain why he could talk, especially if the serum _was_ starting to wear off. Then he thought he was done, and you started yelling at him, and that drove his fear back up. If he's exhausted, that could have been enough to knock him out. He just…overloaded."

"…Gordon? Are people in this town really that afraid of this guy?"

"We use interrogation by Batman as a threat to get suspects to roll over and give up their cronies. The District Attorney has a habit of using it to get criminals to agree to plea bargains in cases where she knows they have the right person but is less than confident about going to jury. I'd say 'legend' is probably the right term."

"…Huh." _Fear's one thing, but there's something else going on here. They're hiding something from me._ _Something big. But what the hell is it?_ He glanced back at Gordon, then towards Robin. _Maybe if I can get the kid alone…he's good, he's __damn__ good, but he's still a kid. But how do I get him away from daddy, that's the question…_ There was only one bribe he could think of that would work. "Well, whatever it was that knocked him out, he didn't point out your boat handler before he went."

"Boat handler?" Batman asked, one corner of his mouth twitching. _You just admitted to watching, Woodward. _

_Shit, that wasn't very smooth. _"You knew we were on the other side of that glass," he crossed his arms. "You and him both," he jerked his head backwards, towards the boy. "Awfully _careful_ with your wording to have not known. You're pretty slick, Batman, I'll admit it, but I'm no slouch myself. I didn't get this job by blowing people."

"Mr. Woodward, please," Gordon frowned. "…There _is_ a child present."

"He's heard far worse than that, I'm sure," the agent waved his concern off. "Tell me, exactly how long did it take you to subdue all those men you left in the tunnels, plus Sawyer? Can't have been too long for a 'legend' like yourself. Oh wait, no; you said the kid and his friend did most of the hard work. So where were you? Get held up by something?"

_…I can't tell if he suspects something or is just fishing. _"It was his first mission. I wanted him to have an opportunity to prove himself. He did so."

"You'd throw a child into that kind of danger?"

"You'll notice he's intact."

"Yeah, the parts of him we can see." There was a stony silence following that, which Woodward finally broke himself. "But that's not my area of concern. Just an observation. For whatever reason, though, you've got a reputation in this town, it seems. Sawyer should fear me – I'm the representative of what he's been running from for five years, after all – but he doesn't. He's got no respect for me. But you," he nodded. "Yeah, I'd say he's got respect for you. He _asked_ to see you. He's been asking for the last three days," he revealed.

"What?" Gordon all but gasped. "You didn't tell me that!"

"Why would I? Sawyer's my prisoner, I'm just using your jail." His attention returned to Batman. "He asked for you. It's the only request he's made all week. What I'm wondering is, if you can make those men out there spill their guts, what can you do with Sawyer?" His voice dropped. "I want to know what's in his head, and you're going to find out."

_And you're going to be listening. Damn it._ _I don't remember ever __wanting__ the person I'm interrogating to speak in codes and subterfuge before now._ "Fine. I'll talk to him," he made it sound like he was the one doing the favor.

"Good."

"Woodward." The agent turned back from where he'd been heading out the door, expecting the others to follow him. "You have no idea who you're dealing with." _With me or with Sawyer. You might think you do, but you've only scratched the surface._

"That's half the fun," he replied. "Now, are you coming?"


	41. Chapter 41

"Batman?" Robin said as they walked down the hall.

"Yes?"

"…Can I talk to you for a minute?" Gordon and Woodward came to a halt in front of them and turned, curious. "…Alone?" the boy added, letting a small pout cross his mouth.

"What's this about?" the federal agent asked suspiciously.

"Gordon. An observation room."

"Right here, Batman," the commissioner frowned, pushing open a door.

"_Wait._ What's this about?!"

"I just wanna talk to him, okay?" Robin's voice rose tremulously, sniffling slightly. "It's…it's private."

"He's a _child_, Woodward," Gordon took his vigilantes' side, mildly disturbed by the boy's distress. "I know you don't have any of your own, but sometimes a child just needs a moment with a…a trusted adult."

_…Maybe it __is__ just a kid needing some comfort, and not a scheme for them to regroup in private,_ he relented. _He looks like he's about ready to cry. _"…Fine. We'll wait here."

As soon as the door was shut and locked, Batman held up a hand. Crossing to the small control panel against the mirror wall that showed the interrogation room, he verified that all of the sound recording devices were shut off, then turned to his son. "Robin?" he knelt. The boy was on him in an instant.

"I'm okay," he reassured him quietly. "Do you think there's a camera in here?"

"Probably," he whispered back, relieved that there wasn't actually a problem. "Just pretend like you're crying."

"Woodward's figured out that someone was locked up downstairs. He saw where you pulled out the cuffs, and he saw my blood on the floor. But I don't think he _knows_ that it was us down there. I think he was trying to get Reznik to verify it for him before he confronted you."

"Damn it."

"…That bad?"

"Maybe. If he finds out I've been injected…" he grimaced, rubbing one hand up and down the child's back to keep up the charade. It was dangerous, potentially creating a record of him comforting the boy that, in the wrong hands, would solidify as fact what Gotham's villains were already going to suspect, but at the moment throwing Woodward off was the greater concern. "He's keeping things from me. He didn't seem suspicious until after we talked to Reznik…I just hope Sawyer doesn't give it all away when we talk. Listen," he tacked on as a thought struck him. "I don't want the controller in the same room as Sawyer. I need you to take it and keep it hidden. I know you don't like it, but-"

"It's okay. I can hold onto it while you're in with Sawbones."

"…You're sure?" _I can hide it on myself if I have to, but I'd rather it be completely out of his reach._

"I'll do whatever you need me to, Batman. That's my job."

He slid one arm beneath the boy's cape, a motion that to anyone reviewing security footage would have looked like a simple tightening of their embrace. His other hand quickly unclipped the radio from his own belt and secured it between two of the pouches on the back of Robin's, where it would be more or less unnoticeable. Then he pulled back, gently grabbing the small wrists as they were removed from behind his neck. "We're going to tell them that you're scared of Sawyer," he breathed. "If they ask why, he's the first serious criminal you've ever encountered, and what his serum did to the guards really bothered you. It's not great for your reputation, but-"

"But it works," he nodded. "It's okay. I thought we might have to say something like that. I don't mind; they all treat me like I'm a baby, anyway, so we might as well use that to our advantage."

"Good thinking, acting upset so we could get a moment alone."

"Thanks," he gave a tiny smile. It wanted to spread, but there was the camera to think of.

"Did Woodward hurt your shoulder?"

"Not enough to count."

"…Okay. Ready?"

"Yup. Let's go."

They re-entered the hall, Robin giving one final little sniff and rubbing at his eyes to reinforce the illusion of tears having been shed. Gordon, Woodward, and the nurse who had removed Reznik from the interview with Batman were a short distance away, two of them seemingly engaged in debate.

"It's _criminal_, Commissioner," the nurse exclaimed. "It's bad enough that that…that _man _has him running around at this hour, dealing with dangerous persons, but now you tell me he's crying on top of it. Well, who could blame him? He's no doubt terrified, not only of the characters he's forced to interact with nightly but by Batman himself. I cannot believe that you're allowing this to go on."

"What do you want me to do?" he threw up his hands. "Arrest him? Even if he didn't go through half my force before we managed to get him, do you know what would happen on the streets of this city _without_ him?"

"Well… surely there must be something that can be done! If not through you, then through another department. Social services, maybe."

"Can you picture that? Honestly, can you imagine someone from Child Protective Services trying to serve _Batman_ with documents?"

"Back them up with officers, _Commissioner_. This is a _child_ we're talking about!"

"My officers aren't as expendable to me as you seem to think they are. Do I think it's insane that he has that boy running rooftops with him? Yes. Yes, I do. And I'm sure that he's already been involved in things that have emotionally, if not physically, scarred him for life. But I will say this, also; he's more than his partner. Anyone who lays a hand on that child is in for a world of hurt. I, for one, am not interested in arousing the protective parental instincts of Batman, at least not without a hell of a lot better reason than Robin having a crying fit in an observation room."

"That sounds like cowardice," she hissed.

"It sounds like common sense," Woodward snorted, joining in. "And nurse, if you're so worried about whether or not Robin's afraid, why don't you ask him for yourself?"

"What are you-" she turned and saw the pair. "Well. I think I will." Stalking towards them, she gave Batman a slightly fearful glare before bending down.

"I'm _not_ afraid of Batman," the boy said forcefully before she could so much as open her mouth. "I'd be a lot more afraid if you took me away from him."

"Dear, wouldn't it be nice to be in bed right now? No bad men to worry about?"

"Somebody has to worry about them,ma'am," Robin replied as politely as he could.

"That's an adult job, though. Let the Commissioner and…Batman," she said grudgingly, "deal with that. Adults are here to correct the wrongs done to children," she tried to convince him. "That's our job."

He shook his head. "You don't get it. I'm sorry, but you just…don't." _It's like with me. Sure, Batman caught Zucco, and that was great. But it wasn't everything I needed. _"There's more involved than just physical safety."

Her face flickered. "Well, there are psychologists who can help with those other things, and-"

"And that doesn't always work. Your concern is nice, but you don't understand. I'm fine. I…I don't want to be rude, but…" he scuffed his foot on the floor absent-mindedly, "…you're kind of holding up our investigation."

She paled, but stood back up. "You poor child," she shook her head. "You're a sick man, whoever you are under there," she spat at Batman, then spun on her heel and marched away, clearly fuming.

"Thought you said people in Gotham are _afraid_ of Batman," the federal agent smirked. "She sure didn't seem to be."

"Bad people," Robin answered before anyone else could. "I said bad people are afraid of him."

"She wants to take you away from him. You don't think that's bad?"

"Sure I do. But she's not a bad person. She just…has her own opinions."

_Kid, I can't tell if you're ridiculously well-trained, ridiculously precocious, or both. _"…Let's get this started," Woodward rubbed his hands together. _Okay, Batman, let's see just how good you are,_ he mused as he led them down another flight of stairs. _I don't really believe that tale your boy came up with about Reznik; it's just too coincidental. The only other explanation is that you have whatever Sawyer was using to control them. I don't know exactly what happened in that warehouse, but I'd bet money that everything didn't go according to your plan. You got out, but the question is, how far did it go before you managed that? Shots were fired, and somebody got hurt downstairs, but who exactly? Sawyer's no dummy; he wasn't just moving heroin that night, I'm certain of that. But if he meant for you to show up, did he know you were bringing company? Did he actually manage to get you in his grasp? And if he did…did he give you something? Are you under his control, hypothetically? Damn, I wish that security array we found had been recording instead of just live feeding…_

They were questions that he knew he wasn't likely to get a straight answer on from Batman. Robin was more likely to fold, or at least give something away by accident; if he had the right amount of luck, maybe the boy _and_ Sawyer would give him something to work with. _Still, what the hell am I going to do if he __is__ able to be controlled? _ _He'd never just come quietly, he's too much of a loose cannon for that. There'd be no way to arrest him, short of taking the boy and…well. The boy wouldn't be so easy to catch, either, and like Gordon said, there'd be hell to pay for even trying. Damn it, Ketel, find the line, man! _

Really, he had to admit, there was no move he could make without more information. _Robin and Sawyer. If they'll talk, I can get my head straightened out with a little more information. Then I can make the decision. _"In here," he gestured to a doorway flanked by two of his own men. Batman entered, but Robin, he noted, stayed in the hallway. "…Aren't you joining him?"

"No," the boy shook his head. "He wants me to watch."

"…Is that what scared you earlier? The idea of being in there with Sawyer?" Woodward asked as he pushed into the observation room.

"…Yes."

"Nice of Batman to let you sit out, then. But I guess it's good training for interrogation methods, huh?" _Loosen him up, make him feel more comfortable. _

"…I guess it is, Mr. Woodward."

"You know-"

"They're starting," Gordon cut him off, gesturing through the window. Woodward and Robin fell silent, the former grimacing, the latter relieved.

"…Batman," Sawyer breathed happily. "Oh, I _hoped_ that little government bloodhound would let me see you."

"Sawyer. This conversation is being recorded." _God, I hope you want to keep playing your little game of not giving the police anything. _

"Ah. You're telling me that for a reason." He grinned, picking at his already meticulously clean nails. "I've always had beautiful hands, even with all the chemical exposures. They keep the nails cut so short here, though," he sighed. "I like a little length, it makes the dirt easier to get out."

"You asked for me. Why?" It was a dangerous question, but its answer might be crucial.

"You're the only one who ever got close to finding me," he shrugged. _I told you that,_ his facial expression teased. _I could tell them that I told you that, but this is more fun. Keeping you on your toes, uncertain whether I'll let the cat out of the bag. You hide it so well, Batman, but I know you don't want them to know. We both know what their reaction would be, in the name of national security. _"You're the nearest thing to an interesting opponent that I've ever found. You understand that, surely."

"…Yes."

"I thought so. You and Woodward are well enough matched, on certain intellectual levels at least, to make for an interesting battle. I think you're enjoying it. You have the same basic goal – keep me helpless – but the nuances…well. You each have your own reasons for wanting me out of the picture. But there is a clearly superior specimen, Batman, one who will win out every time, barring the occasional unforeseeable stroke of luck. In the case of you and Woodward, the victor is you. In the case of you and me…that remains to be seen, doesn't it?"

"You're in police custody, Sawyer." _You'll notice I'm not. For now._

"For now," he waved off. "I'll rot for a few more years under the government's thumb. I'm used to that, I spent over a decade slaving away for an entire department of the ungrateful bastards. But it won't last. We both know that. And then…and then who knows?"

"Your guards are upstairs, incapacitated by your serum."

"Well, that _is_ part of its charm. It makes it so easy to put things exactly the way you want them."

"Can they be cured?"

"Of course not. Why would I invest time in something that could be _cured_? My goal is to rule the world, not run a clinical trial." He frowned. "I'm a little disappointed by your question. It's naïve, and far below your level. Although…it's also very forward, to the point and yet subtle…and those things are very _you_, Batman." He sat back. "You do still have a few surprises under that outfit, don't you?"

"So a cure is impossible," he clarified.

"Oh, how much do you want to give away, Daniel?" he looked up at the ceiling, considering. "Yes and no," he answered finally.

"…Sawyer," came a growl.

"Don't waste your voice tricks on me, damn it," the chemist's tone had flattened. "I'm not your standard two-bit Gotham hoodlum. You _know_ me as well, if not better, than you know that _precious_ little boy that trails after you like he's sewn into your cape. You could never have tracked me as you did otherwise. Don't make me regret choosing you."

_Leave Robin out of this,_ he wanted to retort, but he bit it back, knowing it was likely to only make the man across from him shut down further or, worse still, reveal things he didn't want shared, let alone recorded. "Clarify your answer."

"Such self-control, and under such goading! It would be such a shame if you were to ever lose that, wouldn't it? I wonder what our friend the federal agent would do in that case?"

"Answer. The question."

"Not in the mood to analyze our audience, I see. Very well. The structures in the brain are permanent," he said disinterestedly.

"You said yes and no."

"And what, you think I'll hand you the answer on a silver platter? Isn't half of the equation enough for you?" His eyes glinted. "…Or are you upset because I gave you the half you already knew?"

His mouth tightened slightly, and he changed tack. "Where did you go?"

"…I'm sorry?"

"Where did you go when you vanished from the DoD?"

"Feeling nostalgic? Missing the good times when I was but a dusty file that didn't trouble your dreams and – dare I say it? – those of others close to you? Where _is_ the child tonight, anyway? I was hoping to actually meet him."

"He's…around."

"Oh, good. I'm glad to hear that he's…around." _Still_, he mouthed silently. "I see a lot of myself in him. He has _great_ potential, I feel. Don't you?"

"This doesn't involve him. Where did you go?"

"Your impatience is a character flaw."

"What?"

"Take me as an example. I fine-tuned my serum and various other items – we won't go into details, it's more fun if you find out over time – over a period of years. In a way," he pondered, "my plan is my Robin. I tweak it, guide it in the direction I want, try to prune out or at least sand down the rougher edges, all over a period of many years, all in the hopes that it will succeed and, in the end, prove to be so much _more_ than its creator. I prepared it to conquer the world."

"Conquest is your game, Sawyer. Not mine."

"You prefer to think of your actions as _saving_ the world. But saving the world _is_ a game of conquest. Either way, you're trying to make it fit your vision of what it should be. Why not just let it go its own way, Batman?"

"Why don't you?"

"Because this is the only thing I can think of doing that really, truly amuses me. Short of our little discussions, of course. You know, as I sit here with you I think I'm beginning to understand why you've taken an apprentice; it's delightful to watch someone at a lower level than yourself claw their way to understanding with a little tutoring. It's a shame I'll never know what it's like to have my pupil surpass me…"

_This is getting me nowhere._ "The men upstairs. Can they be ordered to listen to only one person?"

"Finally, you begin asking the _interesting_ questions. No, they cannot. I wanted that to be possible so badly," he whined. "But the receiving structures aren't sophisticated enough. They'll take anything that comes in on that frequency, which does, by the way, sometimes lead to…unfortunate accidents. I could have made them better able to differentiate, given a few more years of work, but I realized that it wasn't necessary. It would be convenient for controlling the highest level troops, certainly, but the peons might need to be farmed out to other directors. Those people would be under my control, too, of course, but…well, it's a complex system, Batman, and really something you won't need details on for at least several years, if Mr. Woodward gets his wish once we arrive in Washington."

The chemist yawned suddenly. "You know, it's very late. Time for wee ones to be in bed, don't you think? I know there are other things you want to ask," he cut him off before he could demand anything further, "but I advise you to restrain yourself, lest I no longer restrain _myself_. There's no other information I'm interested in giving you tonight."

_Goddamn it._ Still, he didn't dare risk it; a few choice words in a certain order and he'd be fighting his way out of the station. _And Robin's in with Woodward and Gordon. _"…Fine." He rose to leave.

"There is one last thing, actually," Sawyer said as an afterthought.

"…Well?" he barked back over his shoulder after a moment.

"Don't be rude, or I won't tell you," he lectured. "You were wondering about my lab earlier. I wasn't going to say, but…I fear you'll waste an awful lot of time if I don't, and I'd hate for you to fall behind. I really do want _you_ to win this battle; it will make it so much more delicious when you eventually lose the war."

"Where is it?" _I'm going to have to race Woodward for it, but at least I'll be able to find the thing._

"It's nowhere."

"_What?"_

"It's gone." He smiled broadly. "I incinerated it. So, you know…don't bother."


	42. Chapter 42

"…There is a clearly superior specimen, Batman, one who will win out every time, barring the occasional unforeseeable stroke of luck. In the case of you and Woodward, the victor is you."

The federal agent gave a derisive snort as Sawyer spoke those words. "He doesn't know what the hell he's talking about," he scoffed. Despite his evinced disdain, he felt a moment of discomfort when Robin looked up at him, smiled tightly, and then returned his attention to the interview without speaking. _Damn this kid. You know something, little man, and you're going to tell me what it is. _"Hey," he tapped him on the shoulder. "You have a minute?"

He was instantly on high alert. "…Sorry, Mr. Woodward. Batman told me to watch."

"You can still watch," he said quietly, squatting so that he was at eye level with his subject of interest. "I just want to talk."

Robin glanced up at Commissioner Gordon, hoping he would intervene, but the man was engrossed in the interrogation and evidently oblivious to the conversation going on right beside him. "I'd rather you wait until Batman can be here," he answered tersely. "I think he'd prefer it that way, too."

"Relax, pal, I'm not gonna ask you anything he wouldn't approve of." He smiled, trying to lighten the mood. "Listen, I don't know if Batman told you, but when I heard a couple of kids had taken down all those men the other night, I was impressed. Damn impressed," he emphasized. "You haven't been running with him for too long, either, have you?"

He still didn't trust Woodward, but that, at least, seemed like a fairly innocent question. "We've been partners for a while."

"He said this was your first big mission, though?"

"…Yes. Why?"

"No special reason. Like I said, I'm just impressed. Most adults couldn't do what you did. How old are you, eight?"

"Nine."

"Nine." He shook his head, not having to fake a look of mild shock. "Now, Robin, I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but…weren't you scared, fighting all those gun-toting grown-ups?"

"No. Not really, I mean. I just…did what needed to be done."

"Well…where was Batman? He must have helped you take out some of them, right?"

"Sure." _Technically he took out a few of the guards upstairs before he was gassed, so it's not really a lie,_ he told himself. He wasn't above telling a flat-out untruth to the federal agent if the man asked him the wrong thing, but there was no reason to start doing so before it became necessary.

"Oh? Because that's not what he said." _ Hah. Dig your way out of that one._

To Robin's credit, his face merely took on a thoughtful expression. "That's strange. But like you said, Mr. Woodward, it was my first big mission. Maybe he was just trying to kick-start my reputation by minimizing his role in the take down."

"…He doesn't come off as the sort to do that," the man challenged.

"It's different with him and I. We work together, not against each other." _Not like you and him are doing tonight._ "He's got my back, and I've got his."

"…Always, huh?"

"Yes. Always." _We're partners. Don't people __listen__ when he tells them that?_

"So…he doesn't keep anything from you?" He sounded a little incredulous.

"He tries sometimes," Robin gave an oddly dangerous grin. "But it doesn't work. Not on me." _Oh, I get it. You think I'll let something slip now that you've got me alone. _

"…So you know everything about this case that he does?"

"I know everything that he's told you about this case, yes."

_Oh, you slick little son of a bitch,_ Woodward leaned back a couple of inches. _You don't need interrogation training; you've already got his tactics down pat, if that line was any indicator. What was he thinking, send you in here to keep me preoccupied while he questioned Sawyer? That would give him a slight advantage if he reveals anything. Still, though, why is he still on the case at all? He collared his man, his part's done. So why is he still so deep into it?_ "And maybe a little more, too?"

"Why are you so convinced that we're hiding something from you, Mr. Woodward?" He cocked his head as he asked the question, scaling back his attitude to that of a child. _There's no reason to completely blow my cover, after all. They want to treat me like a kid, then I'll act like one, at least on the surface. But you're not getting any information from me. _"All we've done is try to share, and work with you on this."

"That's not the sense I get from your boss. He's hiding something." _I'm not buying the 'cute, innocent kid' bit from you anymore,_ he decided. _You want to evade my questions like an adult, I'm going to treat you like an adult. I'm sick of these games, yours, Batman's, __and__ Sawyer's. _His finger rose, shoving roughly into the boy's chest as he added, "and so are you."

Robin stepped back, the accusation in the touch seeming to burn through his costume to his skin. "You're wrong," he said flatly. _Don't touch me. You have no right._

"What…" the Commissioner turned to stare at them with a hard frown as the young vigilante backed into his leg and stayed there. "Haven't you two been listening to this? Robin, I thought Batman told you to pay attention?"

"He did. Mr. Woodward's been distracting me." He rubbed the spot where the man's finger had connected, hoping Gordon would pick up on the action.

"…Woodward? What's going on?" His voice was cautious as he gauged the animosity in the room. Below, the child pressed against him tightly, seemingly staring at the crouched agent. "Ow, Robin, something in your belt is poking me. Could you let up just a little?"

"Sorry, Commissioner," he stepped to the side. _Oh, no, the radio antenna!_ Without reaching behind him he could feel that the controller had slipped slightly as the already tightly-packed pouches of his utility belt tried to return to their normal positions. The short aerial was protruding outward at an angle, and he had no doubt that it was tenting his cape. _I can't let either of them see that, they'll know something's not right. _"I just need to adjust, that's all. It does this sometimes." His hand slid back quickly and shoved the transmitter tighter against his spine. _This is not good,_ he fretted, seeing the agent's eyes narrow._ Hurry up, Batman, we need to go. Woodward's getting desperate._

"…That doesn't seem very smart, does it? Letting a child carry sharp objects around their waist?" He resumed his full height as he spoke, a glimmer of an idea taking hold. "What's it those belts, anyway? Gordon, are these two _armed_? I had to surrender my weapon at the door. In fact," he glowered, "I'm positive that it's against the law for anyone but on-duty officers to bring offensive objects into a police station, isn't it?"

"Well, they let you in," Robin muttered. _Wow, that wasn't very nice. But then again, __he's__ not very nice, so…_

The Commissioner bit back a laugh. _I like this boy,_ he thought, not for the first time since meeting him. _He scares the bejeesus out of me, just from the things I'm aware of him having done, but at least he has a sense of humor._ "We bend the rules a little for Batman and Robin," he tried to calm the steaming federal agent.

"You 'bend the rules?' That sounds like a good way to compromise your security protocols," he ground out. "I want them searched, and any weapons confiscated."

_Are you insane, man? Haven't you been listening? You're not searching anyone, let alone these two. What the hell got you so riled up in the last ten minutes? It's bad enough that you came into my town and took a high-profile criminal out from under me before we even got a chance to question him; don't start toeing lines I can defend. _"It isn't your decision to make," he stated firmly. "As you were so careful to point out earlier, Sawyer might be your prisoner, but you're in _my_ building."

"Sure. But it _is_ the law, and my jurisdiction is a lot bigger than yours."

Gordon gently pushed the boy at his side back a step before crossing his arms. "If it were a federal law, or we were in a federal building, Woodward, you would have jurisdiction in this matter. But it isn't, and we're not, so you don't. Weapons regulation in public buildings belonging to Gotham is under municipal law. There is also a state code regarding the issue, but no federal one that I'm aware of. Now, out of courtesy," he tried to bring the rage he saw building in the other man's eyes back down, "we called in your department when Sawyer was apprehended. We have handed him over to you without making a fuss, and have even provided for his basic maintenance while you wait for clearance to return to Washington. If you would be so kind as to reciprocate in a civil manner by keeping your hands out of the realms of the law that _I'm_ tasked with upholding, I think things will go much more smoothly."

"…Is that how it is in Gotham, then, Gordon?" Woodward breathed, eyes pinched into slits, his nostrils flaring. "Who runs this city, you or Batman?"

"There wouldn't be much of a Gotham to be run without Batman."

"This is a federal investigation-"

"And this is a city building. If you'd like to catch them armed in a federal building, you're welcome to search them. But here, you'll leave them be."

The trio was so involved that none of them realized the interview in the next room had ended until the door behind Robin flew open, Batman filling the frame. "…What the hell is going on in here?" he growled, immediately sensing the tension.

_Shit._ "We've just been having a little discussion," Woodward stated, still glaring at the Commissioner.

"…Did I _say_ you could question Robin?" he asked as the boy came to him, never turning his back on the agent.

"Didn't know I needed your permission," the agent snarked.

"…Keep it in mind for the future."

"Was there anything else you wanted to do here this evening, Batman?" Gordon asked quickly. _Get out, get out now, before he tries to come up with some other reason to detain you or search you that I can't argue him out of. I don't know what he's so worked up about, but he's looking for any excuse, I think._

"…No. We're done. I may wish to speak with the guards again, however."

"Not happening," Woodward snarled.

"I was under the impression that they were going to be passed into my jurisdiction for local trial once you left for Washington," the policeman's eyebrows knit.

"They suddenly just became _essential_ to my investigation. And they're off limits again to everyone who doesn't have direct permission from me. Prosecution of anyone who disobeys that order falls squarely in _my_ hands, I think you'll agree, Gordon."

"Yes, Mr. Woodward, I have to agree with you on that fact." _I don't like it, but you're not wrong._ "Batman. Robin. Can I see you out?"

"…No. We're good." He paused, seeming like he was about to say something – 'thank you,' perhaps – then thought better of it and merely turned away, his hand guiding the boy in front of him. "Woodward," he threw over his shoulder.

"What?"

"…I hope you get back to Washington quickly." _And then stay the hell away from my city_, he left the second half of the threat unspoken. _And__ my son._


	43. Chapter 43

"…Woodward, what the _hell_?" Gordon asked when they were alone. "I've never seen such erratic behavior from an agent of your level!"

"Those two," he hissed, "are hiding something important from us. Something happened down in those tunnels that they aren't talking about, and if my suspicions are correct, it could be a serious problem."

"What can you possibly suspect that would make it worth antagonizing Batman? He's the only reason you even _have_ Sawyer! Well," he amended, "Robin is, ostensibly, the reason you have Sawyer. But the point remains the same. They're on our side."

"Like you said, Gordon. _Robin's_ the reason we have Sawyer. So where was Batman? You say the kid's his son, right?"

"Well, he certainly treats him as such. I don't _know_ anything for certain about them, really. That's how he prefers it."

"And you let it ride."

"Yes, I do. I let it ride because he's done great things for this city, things that we can never fully repay him for. My…bending the rules enough to let him operate in his own way is the best I can do to try and lessen the debt we owe him."

"You call him a savior. I call him a potential threat to national security."

"Believe it or not, I've heard this line before from your office. We both know that there is a large body of government types who think all the vigilantes and metahumans should be given the choice to either retire to their civilian lives or be locked away. You're not the first, and you probably won't be the last, to try and apply that label to him."

"I didn't have a problem with him when I first met him, Commissioner. Hell, I don't _want_ to have a problem with him now. He's pretty out there, but it works for him. I respect that. And the kid…the kid blows my mind."

"So what's the problem? You were threatening to all but arrest them a few minutes ago!"

"I took an oath, Gordon. An oath I take very, very seriously. I swore to do everything in my power to maintain the safety of the citizens of the United States. So long as Batman is interested in the same end, I have no problem with him."

"He's interested in the _exact_ same thing we are, damn it!"

"Sure, right now he is. But I believe that could all change in an instant." He took a deep breath. "I think Sawyer got that serum into him somehow."

"…You have no proof of that." _Oh, hell._

"No, but I've got a damn strong suppositional argument. The kid's as good as his son, but he ended up fighting all those goons, apparently only with another child to help him. We found guards downstairs, clearly not associated with the heroin but knocked out all the same. We've got shots fired and blood on the floor, but no one's talking about that. Someone yanked those cuffs clean out of the wall, and even with half-rotten concrete, that's the kind of feat I'd expect from, oh I don't know, an angry, worried, parental-mode Batman, maybe? Then you've got the fact that he's still working this case when his part is _done. _In fact, not only is he working the case, he seems to have some special in not only with the guards but with Sawyer. Don't tell me that doesn't all scream to you that he's got something personal on the line."

Woodward gave a short laugh as the other man shifted, not answering. "You've been working it out, too, haven't you?" When he got no answer, he continued. "Sure you have. You've seen all the same evidence that I have this past week. You're a smart guy. You've been thinking the same thing, but you're defending him."

"You don't know him."

"Neither do you. You said it yourself."

"Yes, I did. But I'll tell you one thing I do know, Woodward; if he _can_ be controlled, he's doing everything he can to figure out a way around it."

"What if that's not enough, Commissioner?"

"…What?"

"If the wrong person manages to get a hold of him before he 'figures out a way around it,' what are you going to do? He won't be defending your city then; he'll be destroying it."

_I was trying not to think about that, thanks._ "Be that as it may," he said slowly, "I will not try to have him arrested pre-emptively. We don't _know_ that he was injected – he's been involved in other big cases after an arrest was made, after all, so this isn't a new phenomenon – and even if he was, I don't know of anyone more likely to find a cure for those men upstairs than Batman. No matter what Sawyer may have said about it being irreversible."

Woodward's ears perked. "Did he say that?"

"Yes. If you'd been listening to the interrogation instead of pestering Robin, you'd know that." He paused. "Look, I know he's not always the easiest person to work on an investigation with, but…sometimes you just have to come to terms with the fact that he know things you don't, and let him run with it. It's hard to do, especially when it's a big case like this one, but I've never once been disappointed in the end when I've done so. Besides," he added, knowing that the duo had had plenty of time to exit the building, "even if you could think of some reason to arrest them, you'd have to _find _them first. They're long gone by now, and to be frank, I'm not even sure Seal Team Six could find and infiltrate wherever it is that they call home."

Woodward was still ireful, but part of the reason he was in a position that carried as much responsibility as it did at his relatively young age was that he had a knack for learning from the experiences of others. Listening to Gordon, he forced down his urge to follow the letter of his oath, and focused instead on its intent. _If Batman's capable of being controlled, he could be a danger to national security…but only if someone with the right knowledge and tools was free to control him. And if Sawyer's in custody and no one else knows how this system of Sawyer's works – except maybe Batman himself - is he really any more of a danger then than he is normally? If I wanted to hold him, just in case, I wouldn't technically need proof, at least not under the current Patriot auspices, but…taking Gordon's words at face value, it would do more harm than good at this point to bring him in. _"…You say he's essential to Gotham's security?"

"Yes. I believe that he is. You glanced through his file, you know the kind of people he's captured for us in the past. This city would be pure, unbridled chaos were it not for him."

"…Well. Like you said, he's gone now, anyway." _There's nothing saying I can't keep an eye on things from Washington,_ he mused. _Besides, the man's no fool. He'll be expecting me to go after him, especially once he talks to the boy. So long as I have Sawyer, I can put a check on Batman. He'll still be under monitoring, the main threat to national security will be as neutralized as it can be barring one of them dying, and it gives me a better chance of getting my hands on him if things __do__ go bad in the future._ He grimaced, not entirely happy with his plan but forced to admit that it was the one most likely to succeed.

The Commissioner watched him warily. _You're supposed to worry about national security, Woodward. I understand your point about a mind-controlled Batman potentially rampaging around Gotham, and trust me I don't like that idea, but it would be my town he'd be likely to start with. And if it comes to that, believe me, I'll take action. But it won't come to that._ "We recorded the interview, if you want to watch it." _Please, don't let it come to that._

"…Yeah, I think I will. See what other bull Sawyer was shoveling." _See if he gave me anything to add to my own file on the man you seem so determined to protect, Gordon. Better get one started on the boy, too…I get the feeling his is going to be just as thick as his mentor's before long._

* * *

"Please take this thing," Robin ripped the radio from his belt and handed it to Batman the instant that they were in the car.

"Sure." He tucked it away securely, then pulled out of the alley. "What happened while I was with Sawyer?"

"Woodward tried to get me to give up information. I didn't," he added quickly, "but he tried. I didn't get to hear much of your interview because he was talking to me. Did you find anything out?"

_That bastard. _"Other than informing me that a cure both is and is _not_ possible and that he burned down his own lab, he said nothing that's useful to us for now." He paused, hearing the boy sigh beside him. "He seems to think he's going to get out of prison sometime in the relatively near future."

"…Is that _likely_?"

"No. I don't think it is. As invasive as Woodward was tonight, he didn't give me any reason to believe that he'll settle for anything other than seeing Sawyer behind bars for life."

_Invasive…yeah, he was definitely that,_ Robin thought. As he stared out the window, his hand rose of its own volition to where the agent had poked at him. "…I guess I don't really get why he got so pushy about wanting to know everything after you talked to Reznik. I mean, I understand why he would want to be in the loop, and why we can't tell him, but…I don't know, Batman. It would have made more sense for him to work with us so he could get more information about Sawbones, you know?"

He was preparing to reply when he noticed the way his partner was rubbing at one spot on his tunic. "…Robin?" he asked, unseen eyes narrowing as they flicked back and forth between the road and his passenger.

"Huh?" he looked over at him. "…Oh." Realizing what he was doing, and that it was likely what had drawn his mentor's attention, he let his arm fall back to his side. _Crud, if I have to tell him that Woodward touched me again he'll want to go back and make him apologize or…something. _"I was just thinking it would have been better for everyone if-" he tried to cover, only to be cut off.

"Did he touch you?" he nearly growled. He wouldn't put it past the agent to use physical intimidation, even against a child; after all, he'd seen the man's colleagues do so on several occasions in the past, and after tonight's scenes there was little reason left for Batman to think Woodward was any better than his peers. _What was Gordon doing, though? He wouldn't have just stood back and let that occur, surely._

"I…he just kind of stabbed me with his finger. It's fine," he insisted, legitimately becoming worried for the federal agent's physical safety as the lips beneath the cowl pulled back to reveal a flash of gritted teeth.

_No, it isn't. He comes into my town, he blocks my access to Sawyer and the guards, and he seems more interested in investigating me than his prisoner. Then on top of that he lays his hands on you, not once, but twice, the second time not even on accident. And judging from the way you're acting, it wasn't a gentle nudge. _He took advantage of an empty intersection to swing the car around, and began to head back the way they'd come.

"Aaaaah where are we going?"

"Back to the police station."

"Batman, no!" his eyes widened. "You don't understand, Woodward wanted us searched! He _knows_ we're keeping something from him, he told me he does, and I think he's probably starting to get pretty close to figuring out exactly what it is we don't want him to know." To his relief, the man's foot eased off of the accelerator slightly. "You know he's just looking for an excuse to arrest you. Don't give it to him, please."

"…Fine. But Robin?"

"Yes?" he answered, slumping back in his seat as they turned around again.

"…If he ever touches you again, I want you to punch his lights out."

"He's a federal agent," he frowned. "And he wasn't trying to do anything…you know…_bad_ to me. He was just angry. It didn't really hurt."

"I don't care if he's the _head_ of Homeland Security next time. If he so much as brushes against you again and it isn't because you're hurt and he's trying to help, deck him. He has no right."

"…Okay."

"Good." He took a slow, deep breath, trying to calm himself. "Why didn't Gordon step in?"

"He did, once he realized what was going on. He was watching you talk to Sawbones for most of it. But when I backed up into him and he noticed that there was a problem, he was great," he noted. "He kind of saved us back there, actually. He told Woodward that he didn't have any jurisdiction in the police station, so we couldn't be searched under his order. You weren't exaggerating when you said he's an important ally to have." He paused. "I like him."

"He likes you, too," he informed him, remembering the Commissioner's expression on Christmas Eve when he'd heard that the boy had a hand in Sawyer's takedown. "You should have seen his face when he heard what you and Kid Flash did."

"Was he surprised?"

"Flabbergasted."

"…That's a fun word. Flabbergasted." They were both silent until the car slowed to a stop inside the cave. "…Batman?"

_I thought you'd fallen asleep over there, chum,_ he thought as he glanced over. "Yes, Robin?"

"If the lab's gone, and Woodward won't let you try to get more out of the guards or Sawbones…what're we going to do?"

That particular quandary that had been pinging around in his mind the entire way home. "Well…Sawyer says there is and isn't a cure," he offered the best he'd been able to come up, the only vague lead he had left to follow. "We'll just have to find it somehow."

"…What if we can't?" he asked, a distinct note of fear in his voice.

_'The receiving structures aren't sophisticated enough,' _he recalled Sawyer's explanation._ 'They'll take anything that comes in on that frequency, which does, by the way, sometimes lead to…unfortunate accidents.'_ It was important information, to be sure, but it made the situation all the more precarious. _My god, I could be out on patrol with you, pick up some errant signal, and just…drop dead. No, no that __can't__ happen. I can't let you see something like that, not again. If we were swinging when it happened, if I…fell…oh, what would that do to you. Not again. No, there's got to be a way…he said there was a way. _Shoving his cowl back and putting on a determined face, he spoke firmly, trying to bolster his own confidence as well as his son's. "We will, kiddo. We will." _Or I'll die trying._


	44. Chapter 44

They were so entrenched in their work the next day that it took quite an effort for Alfred to convince them to leave off for a little New Year's festivizing.

"Alfred, we've got to find a cure!" Dick insisted, peering over the laptop balanced on his knees. Bruce had set him to studying any and every suggested fix for mind control that he could find, no matter how esoteric or ridiculous sounding, in the hopes that if nothing else something might spark an idea in their heads.

"Young sir, I completely understand your concern, and your drive to continue working is admirable," the butler said gently. "But neither yourself nor Master Wayne have left the cave in over twelve hours. It is now eleven o'clock. By the time you go upstairs, get into your coats, and drive to a good viewing location for the city fireworks, it will be nearly midnight. I would be very surprised to see you back at the house any later than one. While that _is_ past your normal weeknight bedtime by a fair margin, I believe an exception can probably be made given the circumstances. Can it not, sir?" he addressed to the billionaire.

Bruce looked up, eyes grainy from a full day of staring at small print. "I already said you could stay up late, didn't I, kiddo?"

"Yeah, but so we could keep working!"

_Stubborn,_ he smiled tiredly. _What kid would rather re-read the same information for the billionth time than go out and see fireworks?_ Sitting back a little in his chair, he stretched, yawning. "You know, I think Alfred has a point. We'll work better after a little break. Plus," he added as he saw protest rising, "it's New Year's Eve. We can't _not_ go to the fireworks show."

"…But-"

"No buts," he shook his head. "We're going. Come on, let's get ready."

An hour later, curled against his guardian in the front seat of the car, Dick had to admit that it was nice to do something other than read about voodoo zombies and people tinfoil hats. "That was pretty," he commented as a particularly bright starburst expanded over downtown.

"It was," Bruce nodded. "Gotham puts on good fireworks displays. I'm surprised there's no one else here, though," he considered the empty overlook they were parked in. "There are normally at least a few other vehicles."

"It's kind of cold out tonight. Maybe people stayed home" Dick suggested, nestling closer. A minute later the several bell towers in the city began to ring out midnight. "…Happy new year, Bruce."

"Happy new year, chum," he wished back, squeezing him tightly with one arm. "It's going to be okay," he whispered against his hair.

"…I hope you're right," came sighed back. "I just feel so useless right now…"

"You're not. Trust me, you're not." The grand finale started as the last peal faded away, and they watched in silence. When it was over, neither moved, not wanting to break the spell of the moment. "I couldn't hope for a better partner to solve this year's cases with," he said finally.

"…We're gonna catch so many bad guys."

"Yeah we are. You know it." He tightened his embrace once more, then released him. "Let's get home. I'll bet Alfred's got hot chocolate waiting for us."

"Cool. Then we can get back to work, right?" he queried as he slid back over to the passenger side.

"…If you aren't too tired. You need to rest, you know."

"So do you," he countered. "But I'll bet _you're_ not going to bed."

"…Children require more sleep than adults," he tried. _Alfred, don't fail me now._

"Quoting Alfred? Really?"

"I should have known you'd catch that," he sighed, reversing out of his spot as he heard the passenger seatbelt click. "Anyway, we have all day tomorrow to keep going, and you're home all week, too. Although that doesn't mean I expect you to spend every waking minute of your vacation working on this," he added swiftly.

"You know I will, though."

"…Yeah. I know. But you're still coming to tour R&D on Friday," he said sternly. "Whether we've found a solution by then or not."

"Okay," the boy agreed. "I won't argue with that."

"Good."

Despite his protestations, Dick was tired, and they were on the road less than five minutes before he nodded off. Pulling up in front of the manor, Bruce sat for a minute and watched him sleep before coming around and lifting him out of the car. He took his coat and boots off, but left him dressed as he settled him into bed, well aware that attempting to change him into pajamas would wake him. _If he wakes up, he'll want to go right back downstairs and work. He obviously needs to sleep, so I'm not taking that chance,_ he thought as he pulled the blankets up to his chin. Dropping a kiss on his temple, he stole from the room, sending his usual little glare in the direction of the Superman night light plugged into the wall.

By the next evening, the billionaire was getting tired of the increasingly more baleful looks Alfred had been sending in his direction all day. "I'll be back in a minute, Dick," he said after a particularly cold stare all but made the hair raise on the back of his neck.

"Mmkay," the boy muttered, not looking up from where he was now investigating large chemical fires that had taken place over the last twelve months. The charred site of Sawyer's old lab wasn't likely to yield much information even if they did find it – Bruce had no doubt that the chemist had chosen the word _incinerated_ for a reason – but if nothing else it was a straw to grasp at.

Concluding that that was the most response he was going to get, he followed the butler upstairs, finding him easily in the kitchen. "Alfred, what's going on?" he cut to the chase from the doorway.

"Sir?"

"You've been glaring at me all day. Why?"

"I don't believe I'd qualify my expressions since this morning as _glaring_, Master Wayne," he said mildly as he grated vegetables.

"Well then what would you call them?" he asked exasperatedly. _Quit making this difficult and just tell me what I did wrong_

"I would call them indicators that there is advice you ought to take into consideration which is best left unspoken within the range of the youngest member of the household, sir."

"Uh-huh. And you couldn't have just _said_ that you wanted to talk to me?"

"Little ears pick up far more subtext than we frequently give them credit for. You of all people should know that, I would think." He ran the sink ran for a moment, giving their conversation pause, and then shut it off. "Now," he turned to face his elder charge. "He has been focused on this issue for nearly 48 hours straight, with no pause other than the fireworks last night."

"Yes, he has been. By his own choice. I told him that I didn't expect him to spend all of his time on it."

"And I suppose you thought that he was likely to take advantage of that, did you?"

"…Well, no." _Especially considering that he told me he wouldn't,_ he chose to keep to himself.

"His dedication in helping you with this…issue…is marvelous, sir. However, we both know that he needs, and has earned, distraction of some sort from it."

"I'm not pulling him from this case, Alfred. Helping me with it has made his nightmares manageable, and lets him know that I value his input as my partner. I won't risk either of those things. Plus…to be honest, I need him down there with me." _He keeps me steady. He keeps me fighting._

"I'm not suggesting that you forbid him from helping you. However, I believe he would be benefitted by some more amusing activity, if only for a few hours."

Bruce reflected on the flat, disinterested response and the glassy look in the boy's eyes when he'd left him a short while before. _Maybe he __is__ a little too sunk into this. I'm glad he can concentrate so stolidly, but he's still a child. _He recalled his own childhood, spent by choice largely in the company of books and old memories in spite of Alfred's many attempts to engage him in other pastimes. They'd been long, lonely years, and for all that they had given him many of the tools that he had come to need as Batman, it wasn't the kind of childhood he wanted Dick to look back on as an adult.

"He needs bright spots in the midst of the dark, sir, or his own light may dim," the butler said quietly.

_And that is the __last__ thing I want,_ the billionaire grimaced. "What did you have in mind?"

"Your tour of Research and Development with Mr. Fox is scheduled for Friday, correct?"

"Yes."

"You could move it up to tomorrow afternoon."

A thin line appeared between Bruce's eyebrows as he considered. "I think I have a meeting then. And it would be inconvenient for Lucius, too, to switch it last minute like that."

"Not at all, sir. Your schedule is clear, and Mr. Fox was most amenable to the suggestion a short while ago. He even commented that it would be a delightful way to begin the company's new year. I seem to recall him utilizing the phrase 'fresh blood…'"

"'Fresh blood?' How many times do I have to tell people to stop scouting my nine year old?"

"Obvious talent frequently results in such frenzy amongst adults with foresight, Master Wayne. I'm afraid it's only likely to get worse as he ages."

"So am I supposed to take it that you've already moved the appointment?"

"Indeed I have, sir."

"Alfred…" he half-groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. _You always know what's best, but boy do you get me in line with your plans by the most annoying method sometimes. _

"You're quite welcome," the Englishman stated modestly, opting to interpret the complaint as a token of thanks. "…I'm sure Master Dick will be delighted to hear the news," he urged when his elder charge continued to loiter in the doorway.

"I guess I'll go tell him, since it's all set up," he sighed. "Anything else you're planning on rearranging unexpectedly? I just figured I'd tell him all at once."

"Not as of this moment, sir. I'll be certain to inform you should that change." Over the vegetables, Alfred hid a tiny smirk. _You may be slightly disconcerted, Master Wayne, but believe me when I say he needs a break. If this were a school week he would naturally have distraction, but since he is on vacation and clearly determined to waste away downstairs until you are cured we must take the initiative._

Going back down to the cave, Bruce glanced at his watch. _If he's going to come to the office tomorrow, he should go to bed soon,_ he reflected. _Somehow I don't think he's going to be happy about that._ "…Hey, kiddo?"

"Uh-huh…?" His gaze was still firmly fixed to his computer screen, but his eyelids were drooping.

"Here," the man took the laptop, closing it as he set it on the counter.

"But-" he protested, sitting up straighter and pouting slightly. "I was reading about…something…"

"It's okay, chum. You're tired," he knelt before him. "C'mon, it's bedtime. I'll tuck you in, huh?"

"No, I'm not…I'm fine, Bruce, let me keep going?"

He shook his head. "Sorry. I'd be tempted, but you've got plans tomorrow afternoon that I want you to be well-rested for."

The boy blinked at him curiously. "…What plans? I was gonna come down and keep working. Unless…" He was suddenly wide awake. "…Did you find a cure and not tell me yet? Is that it?"

"No," he winced. _Sorry, Dicky._ "But tomorrow you're touring R&D with Lucius and I."

"But tomorrow's Wednesday. It was scheduled for Friday."

"It was re-scheduled for tomorrow. So," he stood up, "you need to go to bed."

Dick glanced at the shut computer. "…Ten more minutes?"

"No. It'll all still be here in the morning. Maybe if you're lucky Alfred will let you come down after breakfast."

"…Okay," he heaved a sigh and obeyed, following him upstairs. "…Bruce?" he asked as the covers were pulled up to his chin.

"Hmm?"

"I'm excited for R&D, but…I'd kind of rather keep working. Are you sure you can't move it back to Friday? I'm not trying to make it inconvenient, I just…I just want to get you fixed, that's all."

"I know, chum. I appreciate it. But I can't move it back. It's set in stone now." _Alfred wouldn't give Sawyer a chance to kill me if I tried at this point. _He patted a lump under the blanket that he knew to be an arm. "You're going to have a great time, you'll see. It'll be a nice break."

"…Okay," he repeated his earlier exhalation. Giving the man a sad little smile, he wished him goodnight and rolled over.

_It wasn't my idea,_ Bruce thought as he sat on the edge of the mattress and listened to his son's breathing ease out into sleep. _But I'm glad Alfred forced me into it. He's right; you need a distraction, if only for a little while._ _ So long as your night terrors don't come back as a result, it'll be good for you. _ "Sweet dreams, kiddo," he whispered fervently, then slipped from the room.

At three o'clock the next afternoon, Dick found himself waiting in the lobby of the executive suite, kicking his feet idly in his chair as he reviewed everything he'd read between breakfast and lunch. _It's all no good,_ he pouted to himself. _Nothing I've found is helpful. We're running out of options, I know we are, even if Bruce keeps insisting that there are still lots of things to check…I think he's just going through the motions now. _There wasn't even a way for Batman to try and sneak in to talk to Sawbones again, he knew; his mentor had spoken with Commissioner Gordon very late last night, and been informed that not only had Woodward finally left with the chemist and all of the guards in tow, but that the coroner had come back with autopsy results on the dead men that showed simple cardiac arrests, with no other anomalies to speak of. While that in and of itself was suspicious given what else was known about the case, Batman wasn't going to tip his hand, already half-known as it was, by suggesting that the corpses be given an MRI. _All of our police leads have dried up, and we don't __have__ anything else. _He sighed audibly, making Cynthia look up from her desk.

"They'll be done soon, sweetheart."

"…Thanks," he gave her a weak smile. Cynthia was nice, but there was no way she had any idea what kinds of issues were plaguing him at the moment. The delay to the tour would have been at the very bottom of the list where it not for the fact that the longer he waited here the later it would be before he got back to research.

He was about to let loose another loud breath of air when the door to the office opened, letting Bruce and Lucius out. Both smiled when they saw him, his guardian's expression carrying a masked concern that only Dick noticed. _He knows I was sitting here thinking about it. But what else am I supposed to do?_ "Hi."

"Hello, Dick," Lucius greeted. "Are you ready for your tour? There are some things downstairs I think you're going to like."

"Sure," he nodded as eagerly as he could. To his surprise, it wasn't as difficult as he'd thought it might be to pretend like he didn't want to be somewhere else, and as the elevator descended he felt his pre-Sawbones passion for this moment flare. "…What kind of stuff are we going to see?" he asked, unable to help but want a teaser.

"Well, I think you'll find that the best thing going on currently is the upper-atmosphere jet."

"…Are you building it for faster flights, or for space tourism?" he queried, falling into the topic immediately as they exited the lift and walked a short distance down the hall. Behind him, Bruce smirked slightly. _Trust him to be interested in anything having to do with flying,_ he thought. _At least he seems to be distracted from Sawyer._

Lucius was grinning broadly. _I knew the plane would get him. It gets everybody._ "Good question. Right now it's being developed for some, ah, top secret purposes," he winked, "but my understanding is that it will be easily adaptable for uses in space tourism once that becomes a bit more established of a market. This," he extended his arm towards a younger woman who was approaching them at a quick pace, "is the person to ask all about that particular contract. Dick, this is Jeannette Loussac, aerospace engineer and head of Cloudcutter. Dr. Loussac, meet Dick Grayson, child prodigy."

"…Hi," he blushed, taking her hand when she offered it. "I'm not really a child prodigy," he informed her quickly. "I just think the stuff you do down here is really cool."

"Well, it _is_ really cool," she agreed, "but from what I've heard about you, 'child prodigy' is pretty apropros. I went to Gotham Academy back when it first opened, so I can tell you from experience that they don't let people in just because of how much money their dad happens to have. If you got in, and especially if you got in early, you earned it."

"…Thanks," he flushed even more deeply. "So…Cloudcutter?"

"That's what we call the plane," she explained, gesturing for him to walk beside her as they entered a large room that had clearly been turned into the project office. "It's still in development right now, but take a look at some of these," she led him to a hanging blueprint portfolio and began to flip pages.

"Whooooaa…is that the rebreather system?"

"Well, that's not quite what we call it, but yes," she answered delightedly. _That was either an extremely lucky guess, or this kid really __is__ a prodigy._

"…It's so strange to see it all…broken down like that."

"You think that's great, check _this_ out," she turned to another sheet. "This is one of mine," she preened. "Wing schematics, with modifications for thin-air flight. This system will allow us to build the wings almost exactly like they're designed for regular jets, then add a few little tricks of our own to make them more efficient way up high. It cuts down on manufacturing costs hugely."

"So you can sell them cheaper, and undercut the market?"

"That's what I've been told is the goal." She paused, noticing that he was peering not at the drawing demonstrating air flow but rather at the bottom corner of the page. "…Dick?"

"Sorry," he pulled away. "I was just looking at your calculations. I've never worked with ones like that before, but…I like math," he shrugged, looking at the floor.

"Good. You _should _like math. Numbers are beautiful." She smiled reassuringly when his head swiveled up to her, recognizing the look she herself had worn at so many moments in her life. _Oh, yeah, you've been catching hell for that from somebody, haven't you, cutey pie? Poor thing. I remember how that feels. _ "…That's kind of the motto at G.A.," she informed him gently. "You know…just in case you were worried. If you like numbers, you should definitely get into the math club. It's great."

"Were you in it?"

"Mm-hmm. I thought I knew a lot about math before…some of the things I learned in that group, though, just blew my mind." He flinched a little at her last few words, and she felt a moment of panic. _I'm sorry, I hope that didn't bring up bad memories…I thought your family was killed differently, and that it was Mr. Wayne's parents who were…but I guess you still probably have to live with that specter._ "Anyway, you meet some amazing people. Other math nerds," she laughed, hoping to smooth the situation.

_Brainsplosion,_ he couldn't help but think. He swallowed hard. _I should be in the cave, working…But Bruce and Lucius went to a lot of trouble to set this up. And Dr. Loussac is super nice, and this plane…this plane is freaking amazing._ "Yeah," he laughed a little back. "…Can we look at some more stuff?"

"Of course!" she exclaimed, relieved at his quick recovery. "Here, take a look at this. We gave a tour this morning to some of the men on the other end of the contract, so our samples are still out," she explained as she guided him to a nearby table. "This is a full model of what we think the finished product will look like, more or less."

"It looks like a regular airplane," he opined, craning to examine the belly of the miniature.

"That's the point. They want it to be able to blend in easily, but have capabilities beyond that of a standard jetliner. From the inside, you wouldn't even know you weren't in a commercial plane."

"I wouldn't know what that was like, anyway," he shrugged. "I mean, besides from movies and stuff."

"…You've never flown?" she asked incredulously.

"Not in an airplane, no," he answered. _I __wish__ I could ride in the Batplane, but there hasn't been a good reason to use it since I became Robin, and he won't take it out just for fun,_ he griped silently. _It's probably got nothing on the trapeze, though, even if you are way higher,_ he comforted himself._ What's the point if you can't feel the air moving around you?_

The engineer sputtered. "Mr. Wayne, this is criminal!" she turned, spying him talking to Lucius on the other side of the room. "How can he _never _have been in an airplane before?"

Bruce looked surprised. "…Dick? Is that true?"

With three sets of adult eyes on him, he wished he'd never brought it up. "Well…yeah. I mean, the circus couldn't afford that."

"But wasn't Haly's in Europe until a couple of years ago? How did you all get back here?"

"We took a boat over. Apparently it's really expensive to airlift an elephant."

_Well, now I know why you looked so defeated when I refused to take you for a spin in the Batplane,_ he thought miserably. _I wish you'd told me, Dicky…Christ._ "Well, I guess we're going to have to fix that soon, aren't we?"

"Really?!"

"Yeah. Dr. Loussac is right, kiddo, you should have at least a little flight experience." _I should teach him to fly,_ he mused. _Just in case…_

"Awesome!" he beamed. "Thanks, Bruce!" _Even if you can't feel the air,_ he decided, _it's still flying. So it __has__ to be awesome._

"Don't thank me yet," he warned. "Wait until we know you don't get airsick."

"Somehow I don't think that's going to be a problem," he rose up and down on his toes a few times in his excitement. "I think I'll be way too excited." As he looked back at the table, his interest in the project piqued even higher now that he had an actual flight to look forward to, he spied a curved piece of glass with a strange tint to it. "Why is this _green_?" he frowned, picking it up.

"Oh, that," the engineer returned her attention to him. "Well, when you get up into the upper reaches of the atmosphere, where this plane is designed to fly, you start dealing with all sorts of different radiation. This is a special plexiglass just for the windows. It's designed to be able to withstand massive changes in pressure, and the green layer," she turned it so he could see where it was pressed between several coats of super-strong plastic polymer, "reflects all the nasty stuff we don't want getting through to the people inside the plane. There will actually be a thin coat of it applied to the fuselage, as well."

"So…all the radiation just…bounces off?"

"Well," she amended, "not _all_ the radiation. This is designed to reflect specific types of radiation. We're not too worried about blocking the stuff that isn't likely to cause harm."

A wild idea was taking form in his head. _It's so simple. How did we not see it before? How did __Bruce__ not see it before?_ "This is for the government, right? This plane? I know it's top secret and all that, but…is it?"

Loussac glanced back at Bruce and Lucius, who were once again engaged in talk. "I didn't tell you this, but…yes."

"So…if it's like a spy plane, right? You don't have to answer that," he said quickly when her face grew more cautious, "but if it was, and they wanted you to block certain frequencies from being picked up by the radio the way this glass blocks certain radiation types…could you make something like that?" Without looking, he knew that Bruce's gaze had locked itself to the back of his head.

"Well, sure. Once we knew what particular frequencies they wanted blocked, there's no reason why we couldn't do that."

"And those frequencies…they wouldn't get through _at all_?"

"Well, it would tough to make something _perfectly_ impermeable to any sort of wave, like a frequency or like radiation – even this technically lets a tiny bit through – but you could bounce off enough of it that the only thing you'd get is some light background noise."

"So it would be meaningless inside the shield?"

"Yes, it should be. So little of it would get through that any message, in the case of a radio frequency, for example, would be completely lost." She cocked her head. "Any reason why you ask?"

_She's not Woodward,_ he calmed himself. _She has no idea what's going on. Just play it cool._ "Nope," he smiled. "I'm just interested in radios, and spy stuff. I don't know much about radios yet, though, so I thought I'd ask. Thanks for telling me."

"Dick?" his guardian's voice came up behind him. "I'm sorry, Dr. Loussac, I know you two could probably chat all day, but we've got an appointment to get to, and our ride is waiting." He knelt beside his son, a hand resting on his shoulder, fingers twitching slightly. "Time to go, chum. Thank Dr. Loussac for showing you around, huh?"

_Oh, he __knows__ I've got something,_ the boy thought smirkingly as their eyes met. _Just you wait, Bruce, you're going to be so mad you didn't figure it out already._ "Thanks a lot, Dr. Loussac," he gave her his best smile. "I had a really fun time. I'm super jealous, though."

"Jealous?" she grinned.

"Yeah. You get to work on awesome planes, and I'm stuck going to school."

"You keep going to school, and before you know it you'll be working right down here with her," Lucius pitched in.

"You bet," the engineer nodded. "Maybe you can talk the big boss here into letting you come by over the summer and give me a hand with a few things."

"…Bruce? Could I?"

"We'll talk about it. Probably," he tacked on quickly, seeing a pout start. "C'mon, we're going to be late. Dr. Loussac, I suppose I should thank you, but since I'm sure I'll hear about nothing but planes for the next week…"

"Any time, Mr. Wayne. Bring him back down here soon, would you? I'll babysit any day of the week," she laughed, only half joking.

"I'll keep that in mind. Lucius," he inclined his head towards the other man. "Friday morning?"

"Yes. I'll be in New York tomorrow for the Westinghouse meeting, so it won't be until Friday. Bye, Dick," he gave him a pleased smile as the CEO led his charge to the door. "Don't forget to pester him until he brings you back, okay?"

"I can manage that," the boy nodded enthusiastically.

"_Really,_ Lucius?" the billionaire called over his shoulder as they disappeared into the hallway.

"Really, Bruce," he replied. _Besides, you want him here as much as I do. You just won't admit to it._

In the elevator, Bruce let out a long breath. "Well?"

The grin that was turned up to him was so triumphant it almost hurt to look at. "I've _so_ got it figured out."


	45. Chapter 45

"Well, don't keep me in suspense," the billionaire prodded when nothing more was forthcoming.

"…You want me to tell you _here_?"

"...No," he sighed. "Wait until we get to my office. And quit jumping so much, you're going to break the elevator. You can bounce around once we get out, okay?"

"Kay," he nodded, stilling. He continued to rise up and down on his toes, but at least he was no longer completely leaving the floor. "C'mon!" he sped across the lobby as soon as the doors opened. "Hi, Cynthia!" he threw at the secretary as he rushed past.

"Someone's in a good mood after their tour," she smiled at Bruce as he passed her at a more adult pace. "So, has Mr. Fox offered him a contract yet?"

"I'm sure he has one half written," he rolled his eyes. "I'm going to head out a little early today. We've got another appointment to get to."

"Sure," she nodded. "…Mr. Wayne?" she stopped him just before he passed into his office. "Spend all the time with him you can. Trust me, it goes too fast. You don't want to look back when he's graduating high school and wonder how you could have let yourself miss so much."

"…Thanks, Cynthia. I know." Once they were closed in behind the soundproof barriers, he turned to look for the boy, starting slightly when he found him. "Why are you standing on my chair?!" He knew he wasn't going to fall despite the unstable surface, but it was still a strange image.

"Because I deserve to be as tall as you are when I tell you my amazing idea," he countered.

"Well then, _tell_ me," he stressed, drawing up to him. As if to compound what his secretary had just warned him of, he found himself almost eye-to-eye with the child; as he was now, Dick was just a few inches shorter than him. _I wonder how tall you'll actually __get__, _he pondered suddenly. _I don't see you hitting six foot, but…this seems about right. Unless I grossly misjudged, which I doubt, I think this is about how tall your father was…huh. I'd never thought about that before._

"Are you ready?" he teased, enjoying the rare feeling of knowing something that Bruce didn't.

"Yes."

"It's so simple, Bruce. It was right there in front of us the whole freaking time, and we just…didn't see it."

"What _is_ it, Dick?" he ordered, becoming slightly annoyed.

"We create a shield that will reflect that frequency before it reaches the receivers. All we have to do is figure out which frequency is the one the receivers pick up, which we should be able to do if we take the radio apart, and then figure out another serum that will build a reflector over the part of your brain that takes in those signals." His lips were about to crack from the force of his grin as he spread his hands and bowed with a showman's flourish. "Ta da!"

Bruce gaped. _It's so simple. He's right…he's right, that should work. If we can just isolate the signal, there's no reason we shouldn't be able to block it somehow. If the signal can't reach the receptors, they won't activate, and I can't be controlled. It was such a basic solution that we completely overlooked it…__I__ completely overlooked it…_ "Richard Grayson, you are a goddamn _genius_," he breathed slowly, cupping the boy's face in both of his hands.

"I know, right?!" he answered cheekily, eyes sparking as he threw himself forward. He squealed as his guardian caught him easily and spun him around joyfully several times. "We can _fix you_," he hissed happily in his ear. Strong arms all but crushed him in response, but he wouldn't have dreamt of complaining. "Can we go to Mount Justice right now? I mean, you know, change and then go? That way we can get started? Please?"

"Yes. We're going. Here," he handed him his cell phone, "call Alfred and ask him to come get us now instead of at five while I get our coats."

"…If he's at home still, we're going to be waiting downstairs for a while," Dick pointed out.

"Tell him to pick us up on the corner of Third and Delano."

"Isn't that, like, three blocks away?"

"Yes. It's also right in front of a gelato shop that you're going to love."

"Ooh, Bruce, I haven't had real gelato since the circus was in Italy when I was little." He licked his lips, then looked suspicious. "…Is it _real_ real gelato?"

"They speak Italian in the back, and it's all made from old family recipes, supposedly."

"How come you never took me there before now?" he queried.

"Because you're not down here very often. Which is my fault, I know," he acknowledged swiftly. "But if Lucius has his way, you'll be spending a lot more time in this building."

"Yeah, I'm sure _Lucius_ is the only one who wants me hanging around the office more often," he grinned as he dialed the butler. "Alfred? Can you come get us early? No, Bruce says to meet us at Third and Delano…yeah, we're getting gelato…okay! Thanks, Alfred. Bye." He hung up. "He's on his way, but he said for us to take our time."

"You didn't tell him," Bruce frowned as he pulled their jackets out of a closet.

"I'd rather tell him in person. Don't you want to see him try to control his face?"

"…It is funny when he can't manage no matter how hard he tries," the billionaire agreed, smirking. "Just don't tell him while the car's moving. Here, I'll trade you," he reached for his phone as Dick took his coat.

"Sure. Wait…how did my coat get in here?"

"Cynthia probably hung it up after we went downstairs. Did you leave it in the lobby?"

"Oh, yeah…Oops."

Bruce marveled for the millionth time how, despite all of his maturity and intelligence, Dick was still such a child in some ways. Shaking his head, he held out his hand. "C'mon, kiddo. Let's go."

"D'you think I can get _two_ flavors?" he asked, skipping over and grasping the proffered limb.

Just before the door, the billionaire paused. "You just outsolved Batman," he said, low. "…I think you can have _three_."

He gave him a blinding smile. "Excellent."

* * *

Dick held back his announcement until they were home. As they shucked off their outdoor gear in the foyer, he commented that he was going ahead down to the cave, hoping to draw a comment from Alfred. Sure enough, the butler gave a mild objection.

"Really, young sir, wouldn't you prefer to do something else for a little while? Perhaps you and Master Wayne can go for a ride before dinner, and resume your research afterwards."

The billionaire and his ward exchanged a glance. "Sorry, Alfred. This can't wait," the boy said. "But don't worry, we won't be downstairs long."

"…Oh?" he paused in his hanging up of heavy clothing. _Well, that's a bit more confidence about the matter than I've heard in your voice lately, at least._

"Nope. We're going to Mount Justice."

"I didn't realize there was another meeting tonight. Nothing serious, I hope," he raised an eyebrow at Bruce.

"Oh, just a cure for Sawyer's madness," his elder charge replied non-committally.

The butler's eyes widened slightly. "…Sir?"

He couldn't hold it back any longer, and a wide grin spread across his lips. "Dick figured it out," he revealed.

"Did you indeed, Master Dick?" the Englishman asked, pleasure and shock overwhelming his features. _Well, that certainly explains the gelato. I wondered what Master Wayne was thinking, giving him sweets so close to a meal._

"Yup! We just have to create a shield that will block signals transmitted on that frequency from reaching Bruce's brain. Well, that part of his brain, at least. It's so easy we didn't even think about it when we were looking for a solution."

"…Well done, young sir," Alfred breathed delightedly. _If I ever had any doubts about our taking this child in, I was a fool._

"The Cloudcutter windows are what gave me the idea," he went on. "Dr. Loussac said they have a special layer designed to reflect certain types of radiation, and it just...clicked. It was like one second I had no idea what we were going to do and the next second it was like 'just make it bounce off, duh!'" He realized suddenly that both men were staring at him, similar looks of outright pride wreathing their faces, and paused. "…What?"

Bruce snapped out of it first. "Just you, kiddo. Come on, let's get changed and head over. Alfred," he addressed, "while we get ready, would you call Flash and ask him to meet us there? I think we're going to want as many chemistry-inclined people on this as possible." He glanced down to where Dick was staring up at him hopefully. "…See if he can bring Kid Flash along, too."

"Can we help make the new serum?"

"We'll see. I'm sure we can find something for you to do to lend a hand." _Not that you haven't already done your fair share by just coming up with a solution. I was about ready to start slamming my head into the wall in an attempt to cause strategic brain damage…_

The butler nodded, preparing to follow them downstairs. "Of course, sir. Shall I phone Superman as well, or…?"

"Eh, we'll call him when we get there. If we need him."

"Very well, sir."

As they shuffled into costume, Dick voiced a question that had been with him for several months. "…What is it with you and Superman?"

"Huh?" Bruce, surprised by the question, nearly fell over as he tugged on a boot. "What do you mean?"

"Well…I know you're friends, you know, in real life, because you wouldn't have had him come visit over the summer if he wasn't."

"That was his idea, not mine."

"But you still let him come," the boy pointed out. "And he's pretty much the only person who comes to the cave unannounced. And you told him about Robin. He was the first person besides Alfred who found out about that, right?"

"…Yes."

"And you're the one who told him about it."

"…Yes. What's your point?"

"Well, all that says that he's your friend. But…Batman's really mean to him sometimes. You're kind of mean to him sometimes, too. I don't get it. He's your friend, why are you mean to him? It's not even like you're teasing when you do it."

Bruce paused in his dressing and sat for a moment, considering the child who was now carefully applying his mask in a mirror. "…It's complicated, chum." The look that was reflected at him was not impressed by his answer. "I guess the best way to describe it is that while he is my…friend…he's also my rival. Not like an actual enemy, just…someone on your own side that you compete against, in a way. Sort of. I don't know."

"Wow. You really don't get it either, do you?"

"No," he shook his head. "I don't. But it works, and that's what matters."

"Don't fix what isn't broken?"

"Exactly."

"So…that's still kind of a weird relationship, Bruce."

"Tell me about it."

The boy giggled. "I don't understand why you feel like you have to compete with him. He doesn't seem to want to compete with _you_. And besides, isn't it kind of a waste to compete against him, in certain things at least?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you're never going to be able to fly, or lift a bajillion pounds, or have heat vision. So you can't compete in those ways. But," he went on as he saw his guardian becoming hot under the collar, "there are ways he can't compete with you, too. I don't know him as well as I know _you_, of course, but…I'll bet you're a way better detective. And a heck of a lot scarier. And if you didn't want to ask him to help with the shield serum…well, I don't think you'd leave him out just from resentment if he could actually do more than you, Flash, and Martian Manhunter. So…maybe he's not as good as certain sciency things as you are?" he ventured.

"…You're not wrong," he conceded. _In fact, you're pretty much spot on. I'm going to have to get you some more advanced reading on psychology; you seem to have a knack for that, too. _"But there's one thing that I have that he doesn't. The most important thing, in fact." _And I'll be damned if he ever gets it._

"What's that?"

"You." With that single word, he tugged his cowl down and into position. "Ready?"

"Batman…" he scuffed his feet. "I don't make it worse, do I? Your whole animosity thing with Superman?"

"Yes. But that's okay." He stood stock still as the boy shuffled up to him. "…What?"

"You know you'll always be above him in my rankings, right?" he asked honestly.

_Then what's with that __stupid__ nightlight?_ he almost blurted. Instead, he traced Robin's jawline with one gloved finger. "…Thanks, partner."

"You're welcome," he grinned, sensing the storm he'd stirred up passing. "Now," he grabbed the gauntleted hand beside his face and began pulling it in the direction of the Zeta tube, "let's get this show on the road."


	46. Chapter 46

"Batman," J'onn greeted. "And Robin," he smiled. "How is your shoulder?"

"Much better," the boy smiled back. "I think the stitches are almost ready to come out."

"In that case, perhaps we can take care of them while you're here."

"That would be great!" _Then I really __could__ ride my snowmachine with Wally this weekend._

"…Is that the only reason the two of you came here?" he frowned slightly, surprised that Batman hadn't just removed the sutures himself.

"Nope. We're here because we figured out a way to keep Batman from being mind controlled, and we need your help."

"Of course," he agreed. _I wonder how long it took for the child to figure things out. _He glanced at the elder hero, but the blank white lenses gave nothing away. _However it was revealed, any damage to their relationship seems to have already been healed. That was very fast for something of this magnitude amongst humans…which means the boy is far more forgiving than I think anyone else has ever managed to be with Batman. More so, I would venture, than even the basic power of a young one's trust for their provider can account for._ "What have you come up with?" he directed at the other man.

"Ask Robin. It's his idea."

"…Robin?" he shifted focus. At this moment, with his mentor standing right behind him and with the knowledge that a solution had been found rebounding in his mind, the boy was so brightly happy that it almost hurt J'onn's head to be in the same room with him. It was a refreshing change, really, he reflected as the plan was explained. "…I think we can do that," he nodded after a moment's consideration. "It may be something that you have to reinject at certain intervals, but it's something."

"That can be dealt with, if it's necessary."

"We should start with another MRI, just to ensure that nothing else has changed structurally since the last scan."

"Fine," the cowled man agreed, suppressing a scowl. "Go wait with Martian Manhunter," he directed Robin when they reached the scanning room.

"Okay," he agreed. "So…how does this stuff all work?" he asked, drawing up beside J'onn in front of the control panels. "I mean, I know how MRIs work, but how do you tell the machine what to do?"

The Martian demonstrated the basics for him, noting the boy's intense concentration as he did so. They were waiting for the images to come up when Superman entered.

"Hello, J'onn. Robin," he grinned. "How're you?"

"Good, now that we figured out a way to keep Sawbones from controlling Batman."

_So…did he tell you, and then you figured something out, or are you still under the impression that he was cured by J'onn's serum?_ "Well, good," he said non-committally. "I'm glad to hear it. What's the new scan for? He didn't get himself kicked in the head last night or something, did he?"

"No," he laughed even as he caught the note of mild concern in the Kryptonian's question. "We're just-" He was cut off as the door slid open and let in a puff of air that lifted his feet off the floor before materializing into Kid Flash.

"Dude! Flashsaidyouknowwhosaidyouca meupwithacureandohmygodbroth at _is so freaking cool!_" he exclaimed as he spun around.

"Whooooa, KF, c'mon, put me doooown…" he half-giggled, half-groaned as everything blurred. "You're gonna make me sick!" He was released suddenly, stumbling once before he managed to steady. "Wow. That was crazy. Hi," he smiled weakly as the world continued to shift unstably. "Hi, Flash," he directed at the elder speedster.

"Hi, Robin. Sorry about that. I meant to let you tell him."

"It's okay. What matters is that we have a plan."

"Wait," Superman raised one hand. "What plan?"

The raven haired child blushed slightly as four sets of eyes riveted themselves to him. "Uh, well…we just need to create a shield over the receivers. You know, just to block signals on that one frequency. If the receivers can't get the signal, they won't activate."

"…Can that be done, J'onn?"

"I believe so, yes."

"How did none of us think of that?" Flash puzzled.

"How did _Batman_ not think of that?" Kid Flash specified, nudging his friend with a smirk.

"…I think it was just such a simple solution that we all overlooked it," Robin shrugged. "The problem was so complicated that we assumed we needed a complicated answer."

"That sounds about right," Superman nodded, looking blatantly impressed. "Nice job, Robin."

"Thanks," he answered softly. _Wow. Superman compliments are almost as good as Batman compliments… _"So what's the next step?" he recovered.

"The scan doesn't show any further physiological changes," J'onn offered. "And there is still a small sample of the serum left, although I'm not sure that it will be essential now that we know most of its intricacies. Once we know which frequency we need to block, we should have everything we need in order to get started."

"Batman has the controller," Robin informed them. "We can figure it out from that."

"Very good. I'm bringing him out now."

"…Hey, Robin? Can we talk for a second?" Superman bent down and asked in a low voice.

The boy gave a tiny, slightly confused frown, but nodded. "Sure."

"Let's go out to the hallway. We'll be right back," he addressed generally before leading him out of the room. "Listen, I just wanted to ask…this shielding thing was your idea, right?"

"…Yes."

"So when did he tell you the truth?"

"What makes you think he lied to me?" he countered.

_God, you're clever. _"…I'm not your enemy, Robin. You know that, right?"

"Sure," he relaxed slightly, reminding himself that this was Superman, not Woodward. "But that doesn't mean that you should expect me to tell you everything that goes on between me and Batman. Even if you are his friend. If he doesn't want you to know something, and not telling you doesn't put him in danger, I'm not just going to spill."

"That's understandable," the Kryptonian conceded. "_But_," he added, "Just remember that if you ever _do_ need to tell me something, for whatever reason…I'm around, okay? That offer doesn't expire."

"…Okay." He chewed pensively at his lip. "Why are you so interested, anyway?" The question was asked in a tone of simple curiosity, with no malice or suspicion behind it. _It would be nice to see what Superman thinks about the competition they seem to have going,_ he mused_._

"Interested in what?"

"In him, I guess."

"Oh," Superman laughed quietly. "Well…for a long time, Robin, Alfred – I know, I know, don't say his name here – was the only person really around to take care of him. And as much as he would argue to the contrary, he _does_ need taken care of sometimes. Everyone does. I try to do that for him, because he is my friend, whether he likes to admit to that or not. He resents it, at least on the surface, but underneath I don't think he entirely does. He told us the other night that he didn't want you to know that J'onn's solution hadn't worked on him, and he managed to get us all to agree. I did so begrudgingly because I knew you'd figure it out and be hurt by the fact that he'd lied to you. You're scary quick when it comes to reading him, especially when he's out of costume. I tried to warn him, but as usual he had to go his own way. That's just him. So…I was really wondering how long it took you to see through him."

"…Huh." _I was right. It's __not__ really a competition, at least not in Superman's eyes. _"Okay. Good to know. And about, I dunno, two hours?"

He barely managed to hold back the echoing guffaws that wanted to leap from his throat. _"Two hours?"_ he managed to repeat. "You figured him out in two hours?"

"He's not very good at lying to me, especially when he feels guilty about doing it."

"Good to know." He stood. "Anything else?"

"Nope." He immediately thought of something. "Hey, Superman?"

"Mm-hmm?" he stopped and turned back to him.

"…Thanks for taking care of him before I was around."

"Of course," he smiled. "And like I said, I'm not just going to stop, even if you are doing a much better job of it than I ever managed."

"Well…it is nice to have help sometimes, you know?"

"I do, Robin. That's what I'm here for. And for whatever else you need, too."

"Cool," the boy beamed. "I'll keep that in mind."

They re-entered the room only to have a cowl swivel towards them instantly. _Uh oh,_ Robin groaned internally. _He's going to be upset that I was out there talking to Superman. Crud._ Hoping to avert a fight, he left the Kryptonian's side and went straight to Batman's. "Hi," he said quietly.

"Robin." The boy thought he felt the briefest sweep of a glove along his shoulder, but couldn't have sworn to it. "Superman."

"Before you ask, no, I wasn't trying to recruit him to anything. We were just talking."

"…I assumed as much." _…I really __didn't__ suspect anything, _he realized with a little jolt. _It seems I took our conversation in the cave a little while ago closer to heart than I thought. _

Sensing that there wasn't likely to be an epic battle beginning at any moment, Flash stepped in. "Boys, why don't you go wait in the lounge while we work on this?"

Robin and Kid Flash exchanged a look. "But we want to help," they issued synchronized pleas to their respective mentors.

There was a second of silence before three of the adults snorted amusedly. Even Batman's lip quirked a little.

"You'll just be bored," Flash argued. "It's going to be difficult enough with three or four of us working on the same thing. All you'd be doing would be standing around waiting for something to happen."

"Will you tell us all the details later, though?" Robin directed his query to Batman. "Please?"

"…Of course."

"And if there _is _something we can help with-" he went on eagerly.

"We'll come and get you," the cowl inclined in a half-nod. "Now go. And remember the rules; you still have stitches in."

"…All right," he sighed, shoulders slumping a tad. "C'mon, KF. Maybe there'll be something good to make fun of on QVC."

"Ooh, QVC. Excellent. Not as fun as science, though," he shot a pout at the elder speedster.

"Sorry, Kid. Trust me, you'll have way more fun in the lounge."

"…What do they find so entertaining about home shopping?" J'onn asked when they'd gone.

"Who knows?" Superman shook his head.

"Hey, some of those infomercials are _hilarious_," Flash defended. "…Or, I mean, so I've heard."

"Sure," Batman smirked.

"Like Robin doesn't make you watch them, too."

"…In those situations, the program isn't what's funny. His jokes at its expense are."

"So you _do_ laugh at them, then," Superman stressed.

"…Wait, he can _laugh_?" Flash jabbed teasingly.

"It does seem out of character," J'onn threw in.

"If you're all done," Batman half-sneered, "we have a project."

"Jeez, maybe we should bring the boys back in," Flash crossed his arms. "At least with Robin around you loosen up a little." Seeing the lips beneath the cowl tighten to the verge of invisibility, he took a step back. "Okay, okay! Truce! I take it back! So, ah…project. Yeah. Let's get to work on that. You want to, uh, lead the way, Batman?" _Only it's just that I don't really want you behind me right now…_

"Batman!" They stopped halfway down the hall and turned to find Robin pelting towards them, Kid Flash keeping pace easily. "Wait! I forgot something."

_Oh, please let it be a 'daddy' moment,_ Superman thought wickedly. _I've never seen him blush under the cowl before, but I'll bet that would do it._

"What is it, Robin?"

"Are you going to free the guards before you take the radio apart?"

He hadn't thought about it, he had to admit. "…I'm hesitant to do that. You know Woodward has them, they could tell him things we would rather he didn't know."

"Like what? He's got it figured out that you were given the serum, we're pretty certain of that after the other night, right? And anything important seems to have been blocked. Even the fact that they were there to get a hold of you was marked out, you said. So what could he learn from them? Besides, if you don't…well, what if you open up the radio, and then we can't get it to work again? They'll be stuck, unable to move, for the rest of their lives. We don't even know that they're all bad guys! I mean, what if some of them are just regular people that he grabbed off the street and mind controlled? It's not their fault, so why should they be punished?"

"Woodward may still see to it that they're punished, regardless of whether or not they committed any crimes of their own free will," Batman reminded him. "You know from personal experience how he gets when he doesn't have the information he wants. He could put them through the courts for drug trafficking, and possibly other things. If they _are_ regular, law-abiding people, that would ruin their lives."

"Yeah, but…at least they'd have a chance. Like they are now, they're as good as vegetables."

"What about his questions? He could have killed Reznik if he'd kept trying to force information from him."

"…Yeah," he admitted. "But…I dunno, couldn't we call and tell him, or something? Tell him not to question them? But he probably wouldn't listen," he answered his own question. "I guess…I guess they have to stay that way for a while longer, don't they?"

"I think that's probably the best course of action, yes."

"…Okay. Sorry I bothered you."

"Hey." He lifted his chin with one finger. "You didn't bother us. It was a good question. Now, go have fun."

"Kay," he smiled. "Call us if you need us!" he threw over his shoulder as both boys took off back the way they'd come.

"Yup," Flash opined. "_Definitely_ looser with him around. Oh, don't murder-glare me," he retorted as Batman turned on him. "You know it's true."

Martian Manhunter and Superman shared a knowing glance. Seeing it, Batman gave a silent, defeated sigh. "…Shut up, Flash."

**Author's Note: I just wanted to take a moment and thank everyone who has been reading, and especially everyone who has reviewed. A lot of people have reviewed as guests, and as a result I've been unable to thank them personally, so...thank you! Happy reading.**


	47. Chapter 47

Bruce awoke on Saturday morning with the uncomfortable feeling that he was being watched. Peeking secretly out between his eyelashes, he found Dick sitting cross-legged on the bed, staring at him. "…What are you doing?"

"It's Saturday," the boy said matter-of-factly.

_And you're excited,_ the still-sleepy billionaire groaned. _Of course you are._ "Weekends are for sleeping in, Dick."

"I know they are, but this isn't a normal weekend."

_None of our weekends are normal. _"…What time is it?" he sighed. _Maybe I at least got six hours. Maybe._

"Your clock says six."

"…Six _AM_?"

"Well, yeah."

"Aren't you tired after last night?" As promised, Martian Manhunter had removed the boy's stitches before they left Mount Justice, and since he was feeling better and Batman's assistance was no longer needed in the creation of the shielding serum they had patrolled on Friday night. Any worries the elder vigilante had had for his partner's first night out after the mission-gone-wrong quickly evaporated as their rounds progressed in the normal fashion, a robbery here, a drug sale there. Perched atop a building with a commanding view towards the end of their circuit, they'd spotted the beginnings of a mugging a few blocks away. Just as they were about to swing down, Robin spotted a second stick-up occurring in the other direction. Grimacing tightly, Batman had made the painful decision to split up.

Eager but cautious, Robin had moved silently onto a rooftop at the end of the alleyway where his assigned crime was taking place. Halfway down the corridor, two men, one very skinny, the other a walking wall of muscle, were threatening a middle- aged woman. As he watched, the emaciated one pulled out a pistol and pointed it at her with a shaking hand. _Is he on something, or just scared?_ he wondered as the victim laid down on the filthy concrete. _Either way, he's armed, and his friend probably is, too. So…hit them fast._ Quickly scanning the nearby buildings and finding them high enough for his purposes, he grinned. _Wrecking ball time,_ he thought smugly, then shot out his grapple and jumped, drawing his legs up as he sailed towards the first criminal.

He kicked out and to the side as soon as he felt the soles of his boots collide with the thin man's back and head, shoving him away from the woman on the ground. He landed in a smooth tumble, one hand already pulling out a batarang, and rolled to his feet. The stockier creep had produced a gun of his own, and Robin launched his projectile at his wrist, hoping it would get there before the trigger was pulled. As a loud crack signified the breaking of the mugger's arm, the man's finger twitched spasmodically. The pistol went off, its report echoing painfully off of the high walls that surrounded them. _Ow, jeez, that was really loud,_ Robin winced. Seeing that his adversary was suddenly, screamingly focused on his damaged arm, the boy ran straight at him and jumped. Using his target's shoulder as leverage to change the direction of his flight, he jammed his elbow into a spot at the base of the meaty neck. The giant went down immediately, pained shouts cutting off as he dropped into unconsciousness from the nerve pinch. Riding him to the ground, Robin paused to make sure he hadn't hit him _too_ hard, then rose and moved to the still-cowering woman.

"Ma'am? It's okay now. They won't hurt you again," he knelt beside her. When her sobs showed no sign of slowing, he reached out and touched her hand. "…Ma'am?"

She jerked back at the contact, scooting across the cold, icy road with wide eyes. As she took him in, however, and saw her aggressors sprawled nearby, one moaning weakly, the other noiseless, her expression changed from terror to disbelief. "You…you…how?"

"It's okay. We'll get the police to come out for them, and they can take you home. Are you hurt?"

"…You're a…a _child_."

"Yeah. But they won't get up. Actually…I should double check on that," he frowned, rising and moving to each defeated figure in turn. Taking their guns gingerly, he set them aside, out of easy reach for either of them but where the police would easily find them. He was just venturing back over to the skinny one, from whose throat a vague whining was emanating as he clutched his bleeding skull, when his mentor landed beside him. The woman gave a small scream at the unexpected arrival, but Batman ignored her completely.

"…Robin?" he asked a little hoarsely. He'd been worked up enough when they separated; hearing the report of a gun coming from where he'd thought there were none present had caused all manner of terrible certainties to spin through his brain. Only the fact that the wails that had followed had clearly not been the boy's had kept him from abandoning his own half of the job. Even so, in his haste he'd zip-tied the criminals he'd apprehended a little bit more snugly than was strictly necessary, and had said nothing to the victim other than to stay there until the police arrived.

"I'm fine, Batman," Robin answered quickly, feeling a slight shake in the hand that landed on his shoulder. "This lady might need help, though."

"You…he…a _child_…"

_You're safe,_ he breathed silently. _You're okay. _"…Tie those two up," he ordered, forcing his voice to steady. As Robin nodded and ghosted away to do so, he addressed the victim. "Are you hurt?"

"I…no, but…he…"

"The police will be here soon." He stepped closer, a thought striking him. _It needs to be made known that he isn't helpless. It will make some of the bad ones think twice about going after him. _"Make sure you tell them that Robin was the one who saved you."

"I…Batman and…Robin?" she tried to collect herself.

"No. Not Batman and Robin. I wasn't here, remember? He did it. Make sure they know that. Robin saved you."

"Uh…okay, but…he's a _child_…"

"I'm aware of that." With those final gruff words, he turned to find the boy waiting. "Let's go. It's late."

It had been later still by the time they were home and ready for bed, and as such Bruce had no idea how the child was so bright eyed now. "…You've got to be tired, Dick, you only slept for three hours," he pointed out.

"I am _sorta_ tired," he confessed. "But I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep."

"…Nightmare?" he guessed sorrowfully. To his surprise, however, his son shook his head.

"No. I didn't have any dreams."

_You probably weren't asleep long enough __to__ have any,_ the man thought sarcastically. "Well, I'm not getting up at six o'clock," he said evenly. "So you have a choice. You can either lay down in here and try to go back to sleep until a more decent hour, or you can go somewhere else. But you can't continue to sit there and stare at me."

He considered for a minute, then yawned. "Okay. I'll sleep in here." Climbing beneath the covers, he scooted in close, an exhausted arm wrapping around him. For a moment, the sleepy silence that had ruled the room for several hours was resumed. "…Bruce?"

The billionaire winced. "What is it, chum?" he asked, mildly exasperated.

"Did you hear from Martian Manhunter last night?"

"No. I went to bed the same time that you did. If I had heard from him, you would know."

"Oh. Right. But…do you think he's getting close?"

"I hope so, kiddo."

"…Is there a meeting tonight? Maybe we could ask him?"

"There's no meeting tonight. Relax, Dick, he'll contact us as soon as it's ready."

"I know," he murmured. "But I just…I just want it to be done, that's all."

_Me, too._ "…It'll come, Dicky. It will. But we don't want him to rush, either. Brain chemistry is delicate stuff. Besides," he tried to cheer him, "you have other things to concentrate on, like today. And like going back to school on Monday, and then going to your new school on Thursday."

"Yeah…but do I _have_ to go back before Thursday? I really don't see the point. It's not like I'm going to miss anything important."

"For the sake of appearances, you have to go for the last few days. I'm sorry, but there's no way around that."

"…I could get really sick?" he suggested. The arm across his back tightened.

"Don't you dare."

"I meant we could _pretend_ like I was really sick."

"And then what, you'd be magically better on Thursday?"

"…Yes?"

"No."

"Aww, Bruce…well, could I be just _barely_ better enough to go to school on Thursday?"

"_No_. What's going on here? I know they aren't nice to you at your old school, but you're being awfully adamant about this."

"…Ricky comes back on Tuesday."

_Ah. That explains it._ "You can't avoid him for two days?"

"I'll try, but he's in my class, so…that makes it really hard."

"Well, I have faith in you. Besides, his mother was _not_ happy when she left that meeting. I'd bet that he doesn't even bother you."

"…Yeah, I guess you're right," he said begrudgingly. _That's not what happened the last time he got in trouble_, he kept to himself. _He beat the crap out of that other boy. And that kid hadn't even actually hurt him!_ He took a deep breath. _But telling you that won't change anything, because like you said, appearances. If I tell you, you'll end up worrying uselessly. I'll just have to figure something out on my own…_

"I am. You'll see. Now," he paused, pulling back to give him a teasingly baleful look, "go to sleep."

"…Okay," he agreed, stilling against him. In no time at all, he felt the larger form's breathing fall into the pattern of sleep, but he couldn't manage to quiet his mind enough to follow suit. _Maybe if I breathe with him…?_ Concentrating solely on the in and out of his air, he slowly calmed, willing the conscious parts of his brain to shut down and slipping into slumber.

"…Hey, kiddo?" he heard what seemed like minutes later.

"Huh? Wha…Bruce?"

"Hey. It's ten-thirty. You should get up."

"…Aren't you gonna get up, too?" he asked without opening his eyes.

"I _am_ up, and showered, and ready for the day. Come on, they'll be here in an hour and half."

That reminder shoved him into wakefulness. "Oh, right!" he exclaimed, sitting up.

"You remembered at six, but not now?" Bruce raised an eyebrow, shaking his head with a smirk as he watched him climb out of the bed.

"I was sleeping," he shrugged as he started towards the door.

"Hey!"

"Huh?" he turned back to find the billionaire giving him an expectant look. "What's wrong?"

"I was sleeping, too, when you woke me up at six o'clock this morning. Doesn't that merit a good morning hug?" he spread his arms.

Giggling, Dick tackled him. "…You're really silly sometimes, do you know that?" he inquired, tilting his head so he could look up at him without relinquishing his hold.

"Am I, now?"

"Yup. And you're in a weirdly good mood this morning. But that's okay, I like it."

"Good. Now go get ready," he released him. _I don't know how today's going to go – it's not like Barry and I have spent a whole lot of time together as, well, our regular selves – but so long as it ends with you happy, it'll be good enough for me._

Noon found the pair waiting in the cave, Alfred standing nearby. Dick kept glancing wishfully towards his uneven bars – he'd missed the closest thing they had to a trapeze so much during his injured down time that he'd barely left them all day Thursday – but he restrained himself, knowing that if he got started he might miss a few seconds of his friend's company. Suddenly, the Zeta tube announced their visitors. Dick gave a little squeak as they appeared, clothed as civilians, Barry carrying a very full duffel bag.

"Ohmygoshhi!" Wally barely waited to finish materializing before he dashed to the other boy. Their fists met without either giving thought to the motion. "Itotallycan'tbelievethisishappening!"

"Dude, Wally, slow down," Dick laughed, sending a friendly wave to Barry.

"Huh? Oh," the speedster blushed. "Sorry. Hi! Hi, Bat…Bruce?"

"Hello, Wally," the billionaire couldn't help but smile slightly at the absurd mixture of joy and apprehensiveness evident on the redhead's face. "Barry," he turned his attention to the other arrival.

"Hey, Bruce, Dick," the elder speedster said easily, dropping his load to the floor. "Jeez, Wally, what did you _put_ in here?"

"You told me to pack all my winter gear," he shrugged. "It's not my fault Aunt Iris insists on dressing me in layers whenever I go outside."

"Yeah, I can't really hold that one against you," he conceded. "She does the same thing to me. Hi, Alfred," he greeted the butler.

"Good afternoon, Mister Allen. A pleasure as always."

"Thanks. Wally, say hi to Alfred."

"What?" he stopped in the middle of telling a joke to an already giggling Dick. "Oh. Hi, Alfred. Nice to, uh, meet you."

"…Sorry, Alfred, I guess I should have done that, huh?" the raven haired child looked slightly bashful.

"It's an inordinately exciting moment, young sir. I believe we can overlook your transgression this one time," he inclined his head tolerantly, a small grin playing about his lips. "And I am delighted to meet you, Mister West. Please feel free to let me know if you require anything during your visit."

"…Thanks," he said hesitantly. _Okay, the idea of someone hanging around just to serve us is going to take some getting used to,_ he gulped.

Seeing the other child's uncertainty, Dick nudged him. "C'mon, let's go upstairs to my room."

"You're not going straight for your snowmachine?" Bruce boggled.

"Well, I mean, they just got here," his son pointed out. "Maybe he wants a…a tour of the house or something. I dunno, it's not like I've ever really done this before."

"A tour of Wayne Manor? See you in four hours, Wally. Don't get lost," Barry joked.

"Well, I wouldn't so long as I stayed with Dick. Right?" he asked his friend.

"Um…Probably not? I think there might actually be a hallway or two I haven't seen yet."

His eyes widened. "…Dude, you're kidding."

"It's a big house," he answered. "Come on, we won't get lost on the way to my room, I promise," he pulled at his sleeve.

"Okay," the redhead agreed.

"I'll bring you up some refreshments shortly, Master Dick," Alfred promised as they passed him.

"Thanks, Alfred! You're awesome."

"I do try, young sir," he said drily. Once the children were gone, he turned his attention to his elder charge. _For a man who spends so much of his time playing the role of a socialite,_ he sighed to himself, _he is so terribly awkward when he tries to be himself around people._ "If you would like, Master Wayne, I can serve you and Mister Allen coffee in the west drawing room in ten minutes."

"That would be nice, Alfred. Thank you," his shoulders loosening slightly at the suggestion. _At least with coffee it won't be so uncomfortable if we don't talk._

"Bruce," Barry shook his head, smirking, when they were alone. "Are you _nervous_?"

"Like Dick said, we don't exactly do this that often," he grumbled. _I hate this. I shouldn't feel uncomfortable in my own home. And he isn't even doing anything __wrong__ to make me feel that way…_

"Still, we have more of a shared history to go on than they do, and look at them," he pointed out. "They're _fine_. So…loosen up, huh? I'm not some stranger. You know me; I'm more or less the same guy in costume as out. Hell, _you're _the unknown. We both know you can't possibly be as cold in real life as you are under the cowl."

"…And what makes you think that?"

"Besides what I read in the papers, you mean? It's easy. There's no way Robin would be as happy and sweet of a kid as he is if Batman was the whole of the man raising him." He laughed a little. "See, I'm not a half-bad detective myself, when I want to be."

"…No, I guess you aren't." Somehow, the other man's words eased his discomfort a little. "I'm not good at…well, at sharing myself. I'm telling you that as a form of prior warning."

"Shocking, Batman not being good at sharing. Tell me more," the speedster joked. "But over coffee," he added. "I seem to remember Alfred brewing some really killer beans the last time we were all crammed in down here for a work session."

"We weren't _crammed_. There's plenty of room for seven people to work in the cave," Bruce defended as he led the way towards the stairs.

"Sure, so long as we're not all trying to gather around one petri dish. Why do you think I suggested the boys go to the lounge the other night? Four of us had a hard enough time. You know what we have at work? Islands. They're great, you can squeeze ten people around them and everyone can see without spontaneously sprouting the neck of a giraffe."

"That's…not a bad idea," he considered. "I might have to look into that. But, Barry?"

"What?"

"'Killer beans?'"

"It's a turn of phrase."

"A terrible one."

"Hey, I didn't have the luxury of a private education," he jested. "I have to rely more on local color and regionalisms than on Shakespeare. Forgive my low-brow speech."

"…You're a forensic scientist. I wouldn't define you as low-brow," he frowned.

"What? A _compliment_?" His grin widened. "Hark, progress on the social interaction front!"

"…'Hark?'"

"What, that doesn't get tossed around at billionaire dinner parties?"

"Only when we've had too much to drink." He bit his tongue. _Did I just say that?_

"_And_ joking? Damn, Bruce, you're good at this after all. We'll make you into a real person in no time, with friends and everything!" _Oh, man, this is way too much fun. Now, if only Clark were here for this…_


	48. Chapter 48

"…Wow," Wally breathed, standing in the middle of Dick's room and spinning around slowly. "It's _huge_ in here!"

"Yeah, I know," the younger child nodded, bouncing lightly on the edge of his bed. "It was actually really scary to sleep in here until I got used to it. I never thought I'd have so much space to myself."

"You had a small house, too, huh? My parents' house is tiny. Uncle Barry's is bigger, but it's not, you know, huge or anything. Not like this."

"We lived in a trailer. In a…a traveling circus."

"…_Seriously_? That's awesome!"

"It was," he nodded, relieved at the other boy's reaction. He hadn't truly believed that rejection would come at this point, at least not from Wally, but recent experiences still tinged his introductory actions with caution. _It really __was__ awesome,_ he thought, staring at the rug. _And it's gone now._

"…Do you miss it?"

Dick looked up to find the speedster planted in front of him, a commiserating expression on his face. "I…yeah. But…this is good too, you know? Bruce, and Alfred, and everything with Batman and Robin…it's good. I'm glad I'm here, Wally, I really am, I just…I guess I just wish it had happened in any other way, you know? I wish I could have come here, and had this life, and them still be alive, but…it could never have been that way."

The mattress indented beside him, and he leaned over until his head was resting on the older child's shoulder as an arm was laid across his back. They sat quietly for a minute before Wally broke the silence. "My dad used to beat the crap out of me," he confessed in a low voice. "Not because I'd necessarily done anything, but…well, I don't think he and my mom ever really wanted me. I wish they _had_ wanted me, but I really like living with Uncle Barry and Aunt Iris, too, and not just because I get to be Kid Flash. _They_ want me, or at least I think they do, and that's…that's a really nice feeling, you know? To be wanted. To not feel like you were an accident that never should have happened."

"_I'm_ glad you happened, Wally. But I'm sorry they were so mean to you. You didn't deserve that."

"…Thanks, bro. I'm sorry about, you know, your parents, but…is it really awful of me to be a little, tiny bit glad about what happened, too?" he asked hesitantly, hoping he wasn't saying something truly terrible.

Dick froze for a second, processing that. _I…I don't know,_ he pondered. _I get where you're coming from with that, because I guess I kind of feel the same way about your dad, but… _"It's not…really awful," he managed. "It's…I know what you're trying to say. You just mean that you're glad things happened the way they did so that we could meet, right? And be here now?"

"Right."

"Well, then, I appreciate it."

"…You're not mad at me for feeling like that?"

"Huh-uh," he shook his head. "I mean, a little bit, right, but not at you. More at the whole thing." There was a knock at the door, and he straightened, shaking himself as he deftly wiped away a couple of tears. "C'mon in, Alfred!"

"Here we are, young sirs," the butler entered bearing a large tray. "I believe this should be sufficient to keep your attention for a few minutes, at least." Setting the platter on a folding brace at the end of the bed, he whisked away the cover to reveal a diverse assortment of fruits, cheeses, and small sandwiches, as well as a pitcher of apple cider and two glasses. "Would you like me to pour for you, or will you attend to that yourselves?"

"…That's _amazing_," Wally practically drooled.

"Kid appetite," Dick said playfully. "We can pour for ourselves, Alfred. Thanks."

"Please do not hesitate to call if you require a refill on anything," the Englishman bowed slightly, backing towards the door. Just before he left he caught his younger charge's eye and threw him a wink. The boy collapsed into giggles. _He's totally loving having people in the house that he can play up the butler role for,_ he realized. _Since when does he back out of rooms like we're royalty? Oh, man, I wonder what he's going to pull with Bruce and Barry…_

"Whasso fpunny?"

"Dude, don't let Alfred catch you talking with your mouth full," he warned. "That's like a felony around here."

"Good to know," Wally said gratefully before packing away another sandwich. Rolling onto his stomach, Dick crawled closer, flopping down near the foot of the bed and beginning to pick at a bundle of grapes. Seeing what he was doing, the redhead took a handful and gestured for him to move back before tossing them to him one at a time, both boys laughing as he caught them deftly in his mouth. "You're _way_ too good at this. We should try with something less aerodynamic."

"…I don't really want a sandwich thrown at my face, to be honest."

"Popcorn would work better."

"Oh, hey! I was gonna ask if you could spend the night! Then we could stay up and watch movies and have popcorn. I totally forgot, though," he trailed off. "I wonder if it's too late?"

"We could try," Wally shrugged. "In a minute, though?"

"Sure." He looked on bemusedly, sipping at a glass of cider, as his friend vacuumed his way through a decent portion of the food. "…You done?" he asked with a grin when he fell beside him on the covers, a highly contented look on his face.

"That was sooooo goooood…"

"You won't be hungry for what, like twenty minutes, now?"

"How'd you know?" the speedster went along with the joke. "Nah, a good solid snack like that, I'm okay for probably an hour. Maybe two; I had a lot of bread. So…should we go ask?"

"Definitely! Let's go find Alfred in the kitchen, he'll know where they are."

"The kitchen?" the redhead perked up.

"…Wally, you _just ate_."

"Well, yeah, but…you must have crazy stuff in your kitchen. Like, absurd amounts of food. Right?"

He wrinkled his nose. "…I don't know," he realized. "I…I never really explored it. Whenever I'm hungry Alfred just sort of appears with something amazing, like he knows I'm about ready to eat."

"Creepy."

"Convenient."

"That, too. So…lead the way, bro, I don't know where I'm going."

Meanwhile, downstairs in the west drawing room, Barry was totally relaxed, a cup of Alfred's best coffee steaming gently in his hand as he kept up the conversation. Bruce, he noticed, had loosened a little further, seeming more at ease now that the conversation had turned to something that he was highly familiar with – custody law. "So I don't know where to go at this point. I mean, I have all the paperwork, but there's not really documentation of abuse that we can use to help our case. We know it was going on, of course – he had a black eye when they dropped him off with us, and you better believe I barely restrained myself – but no one ever reported it besides one of his teachers. Even that seems to have pretty much been brushed off because it was the first time a complaint had been lodged. I don't know if Wally's parents will relinquish their rights, since they're still getting certain tax benefits, and if they won't…well, part of me is afraid to even bring the subject up to them, frankly. We want to make things more permanent, but it's risky. If they decided that they wanted him back…I don't know what we'd do at that point, Bruce. I really don't."

_Well, if he was abused by his parents, then that certainly explains your reaction to Sawyer's threat to have us beat them, _Bruce grimaced. "Have you talked to an attorney?"

"Once. All he said was that we were probably better off leaving things as they are and hoping his parents never call. Because, you know, that piece of advice was worth seven hundred dollars."

"I don't know the laws in Ohio, but I keep a custody lawyer on retainer. If you're interested."

"_Your_ lawyer?" he considered. _I'll be paying them off until the day I die. But…Wally's worth that to me._ "…If you're serious, Bruce, I'd like that. The papers made it sound like you really had to fight for Dick; if your guy can navigate that, my problem should be a piece of cake."

"I'll have Alfred schedule you an appointment. Any particular day?"

"The sooner the better. There's no immediate threat, but Iris knows her brother, and she said the other night that she keeps expecting him to come knocking and try to get as much as he can out of us in exchange for keeping him." He shook his head. "I can get time off whenever I need to, my supervisor's been great about that, so…whenever he's available."

"Expect a phone call. It would be too suspicious if you were available to come to Gotham for meetings at the drop of a hat."

"Yeah. Good point." He paused. "Hey, Bruce?"

"Mm?"

"…Thanks."

The billionaire sipped his coffee before answering. "He's a good kid, Barry. He deserves a good home, and if you're willing to provide that for him…well. I know how you feel about things, we'll leave it at that." He stared out the window, eyes following the snowmachine tracks he and Dick had left across the broad back lawn in the days since Christmas. "It's misery waking up in the morning and wondering if that will be the day the courts take them from you," he whispered. "The more permanent you can make things, the better."

"Have they left you alone about…ah…your case yet?" Barry asked slowly, wondering if he was prying too much. It wasn't a question he had ever before dreamt of asking the man across from him, but then until a few short weeks earlier he'd never imagined himself having a leisurely afternoon coffee in Wayne Manor, either. "It's just in the news a lot. Gossip, mostly, but…you hear things. Wrong things, obviously," he added quickly, seeing the dark look that flashed across Bruce's face as he recalled some of the more salacious theories that had been advanced. "But knowing that they're lies just makes them worse to hear." _It's not like I can stand up for you in the break room and tell people who have no way of knowing any better that it isn't true, that you'd never hurt him in a million years. Clark can't, either, and he hears the absolute worst of it, from what he's told me._

"I mostly try to just keep it from reaching his ears. Alfred's good at policing it, too. But…it trickles down, and it doesn't help anything that he's so goddamn _smart_…"

"He is that, no doubt. I kind of figured…well, when you called a few weeks ago and asked about getting the boys together, I thought maybe Dick was having school issues like Wally was. Teasing, bullying, stuff like that?"

The billionaire grimaced. "Like I said, Barry, the bad parts of the world leach into everything. What children hear and see at home ends up repeated in the schoolyard more often than not, regardless of whether or not what they're echoing is valid."

"…Well, he's got a new school to start at, at least."

"Yeah…" _I don't know what we're going to do if the same thing happens there, though. He shouldn't have as much of a problem with being bored, or with finding other students on his same intellectual level, but…that won't stop the gossip, and it won't keep the lies of the parents from being broadcast through the mouths of their children._ "I'm just hoping this is a better fit." There was a pause, and he recalled something that had been mentioned briefly in a previous conversation. "…You said Wally was having bullying problems, too, correct?"

"It seems to have gotten a little better during the last week of school, right before the holidays," he nodded. "But I'm afraid to count on that indicating an actual shift, you know? It could just be an anomaly. Maybe the nasty kids were out sick, or on vacation, or something. But…_he's_ been happier, at home at least, since we introduced the boys. And that counts for a lot in my book. They clicked, Bruce. I know you see it, too. It's a little frightening how well they just _go_ together."

"It is," he admitted, laughing a little. Suddenly, he held up his hand. "…Speaking of them," he advised, "we're about to get visitors."

The words had just finished exiting his mouth when Dick rounded the corner from the hall, Wally close on his heels, still semi-gaping at the sheer functional luxury of the house. Barry bit back a smirk. _Subtle, you are not, Wally,_ he thought affectionately as the pair approached.

"I know that look," Bruce stated as he took in wide blue eyes and the tiny muscle twitches that signified preparations for the deployment of a truly colossal pout. "You're angling for something, kiddo."

"…Can Wally spend the night?" the raven haired child asked, wasting no breath in cutting to the point. "Please?"

"…What, tonight?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, he's already here, so…doesn't it kind of make sense?"

The adults exchanged a look. "Told you. Click click," the elder speedster grinned. "Tonight won't work, though," he added. "Your Aunt Iris has that dinner book-club thing she does, remember?" he directed at his nephew. "It's her turn to host, and she wants to show you off to all of her girlfriends."

"…But most of her friends are kind of…you know…lumpy. And boring. And they _squawk_," he made a face. "Besides, I've already met all of them, they've just never been all together in the same room with me. Honestly, Uncle Barry, I think they might pinch me to death."

"Hey, I'd love to help draw some of their fire for you, but they got over me a long time ago," he commiserated. "Besides, I took one for the team the last time we came home late from Gotham. This one's all yours," he reached over and ruffled his hair.

"…You heard him, Dick," Bruce said gently. "Tonight doesn't work."

"What about next weekend?" he suggested immediately.

"...Is there a meeting next weekend?" Barry frowned.

"Yes. On Saturday. But it'll be way too late for you two to do much once we get back from it," he pointed out.

"Sure, it would be if he spent the night Saturday. But what if Wally stays over on _Friday_, and then goes home with Flash after the meeting?" he proposed.

The redheaded child yelped excitedly. "Dude! Awesome!"

Bruce smiled at his son, a legitimate, full-on upward curve of his lips that Barry hadn't known he was capable of. "…Does that work for you?" he directed across the table. "You drop him off on Friday, and we'll return him Saturday?"

"It's fine with me if it is with you. You have to bring your homework, though," he pointed at Wally. "And you have to actually _work_ on it, too."

"Okay," he nodded. "Anything. Seriously."

The adults shot each other another glance. "Sounds like a plan, then," Barry shrugged.

"Yes! Hey, you know what we should do now?" Dick nudged the other boy.

"What?"

"Snowmachine. Oh, and you can meet Gobblehead."

"…Gobblehead?"

"He's our turkey. He lives out in a shed. Come on, I'll introduce you to him, he's really cool."

"Sweet! But I think my winter gear's downstairs…"

"Nah, Alfred will have brought it up to the foyer. He's good like that."

"Dick," Bruce stopped him.

"…Yes, Bruce?" he turned back obediently.

"Be careful, keep your speed down, and remember what I said about both skis _and_ the track staying on the ground at all times. And make sure you both have your helmets on and buckled at all times that the engine is running, okay? Stay on the trails, and go no further than the pond. Don't go _on_ the pond, just _to_ it. Understood?"

"Okay," he nodded. "…But can we go further next weekend?"

"We'll discuss it then. Have Alfred give you a radio, just in case something happens."

"Okay! C'mon, Wally." Still chattering, the pair disappeared back into the hallway.

"…Those two are going to be pure trouble together. Are you sure we know what we've gotten ourselves into?" Barry asked jokingly.

"No, I'm really not," the billionaire admitted. "But…it's good." _They'll get into plenty of trouble, but they'll probably get each other out of even more. _

"You're sure you want to deal with them both for a full twenty-four hours? I can come get him before the meeting, you know."

"It's okay," he shook his head. "I may regret it later, but right now, it actually sounds kind of…fun." He shrugged at the other man's surprised look. "They're amusing together. And it makes Dick happy, so…"

"So you'd put up with damn near anything."

"…Right."

"And you said you weren't any good at sharing," the speedster teased. "Maybe it was just a hidden talent all this time."

"Don't get too excited. You're barely scratching the surface."

"I don't doubt it. Bruce Wayne, the unexpectedly normal guy wrapped in a mystery wrapped in a superhero wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a fake socialite wrapped in a businessman wrapped in a secretive billionaire." He paused. "…You're the seven-layer burrito of Gotham," he pondered.

_The 'seven layer burrito of Gotham?' _He snorted at the absurd comparison, barely managing to avoid sending coffee through his nose in a manner that would have left Alfred aghast. "Barry…" he recovered, still chuckling, "what the hell?" _And when did I start __enjoying__ this afternoon?_

"I'm not wrong, admit it," he said, looking pleased with himself.

"…You may not be wrong. But I resent the burrito comparison."

"Burrito or no burrito, I have a question."

"What?"

"…Why on earth do you have a pet turkey?"

Bruce just groaned. "You wouldn't believe it if I told you."

A pair of shouting young voices drew their eyes out the window to where Dick and Wally were half-running towards the low shed that housed the manor's resident game bird, stopping only to chuck lumps of snow at one another. Grinning at the sight, Barry grabbed the coffee urn and topped off both of their cups. "From the looks of those two, we've got plenty of time for you to turn me into a believer. So…I'm all ears. Share away."

He watched him for a second, considering. "Well…" _What harm will it do?_ he asked himself. _Really? If nothing else, maybe it will give him a better sense of the fact that Dick seems to find trouble around every corner. If that means he keeps even a slightly more diligent eye on him in the moments when I can't…it's worth it. Besides that, it's…it's kind of nice, talking like we were earlier. He understands, more than anyone else I know really can, what it's like to have some crazy kid drop into your life and just steal it entirely. Steal it, and at the same time give it back to you, so much better than it was before…he gets that. He gets it because he's living it, too. _"Okay," he agreed, "but-"

"It never leaves this room, typical Batman spiel, swear on my life, blah, blah, blah," the speedster waved away dramatically. "…Right?"

"…Yeah," he nodded with a tiny laugh. "Right."


	49. Chapter 49

Some time later, Alfred's step approached the room where Bruce and Barry still sat, working on the last dregs of the coffee and talking. "Pardon me, Master Wayne, Mister Allen," he bowed. "Superman is downstairs in the cave."

Bruce frowned. "…He must have news on the shield serum," he mused. _He knows better than to show up unannounced unless it's important._

"So let's go find out," Barry shrugged. "It's not like you can just leave him standing down there all day, in any case." Seeing the other man put on a look that suggested he was tempted to do just that, he cocked his head. "What _is_ it with you and him?"

"It's a long story, that's what. Thanks, Alfred, tell him we'll be down in a second."

"Of course, sir," he bowed again, backing out of the room.

"He's, uh, professional," Barry commented when they were alone, choosing to drop the Superman discussion for the moment. "But I don't remember him being quite so…decorous the first time I met him."

"He probably wasn't, since you only saw him in the cave. He has this quirk where he likes to really lay the 'perfect servant' act on thick when there are new people in the house. It amuses him. You should see him run a party; I think his laundry on those nights keeps the starch industry in business." He stood up. "…But I guess we should go see what the Boy Scout wants."

"Maybe it's good news. God, I have _got_ to ask Alfred where he gets this coffee. This stuff could revolutionize my mornings…"

They trooped downstairs to find the Kryptonian waiting more or less patiently. "I was starting to wonder if you were snubbing me," he commented as Bruce stepped off the stairs.

"…I considered it."

"Ouch. Harsh," Barry commented. "Jeez, what'd he do to you?"

"Like I said upstairs, it's a long story. What do you want, Superman?"

"…Wait, are you having a civilian day without me?" The man actually looked a little hurt. _Wow, Bruce, that's kind of cruel even for you. Since when do you let other people above the cave? I mean, if it had to be anyone Barry makes the most sense, I'll admit, but still…you've been even more distant than usual these last few months, at least with me. I hate to think it has something to do with Dick, but what else can I think?_ _I don't like it, whatever it is._

"The boys had a play date today," the billionaire replied with a shrug.

"We weren't trying to exclude you," the speedster threw in. _Oof, he looks kind of upset. I can't really blame him; I'm pretty sure he's the only other JLA member who's ever been upstairs before now. _

"…Yeah." He didn't look convinced as he gestured to where he'd set the reassembled controller and a syringe on the counter. "I just came by to drop those off. J'onn said the shielding effect shouldn't take more than a few minutes to start working, so…I don't know if you want to test it out or not."

"Obviously I want to know if it works," Bruce grimaced. _I finally managed to put Sawyer largely out of my mind for the first time in two weeks, so of course the serum's ready right now._ He knew it was stupid to gripe about this, of all things, but he couldn't help it. He opened his mouth to go on, but before he could say anything two additional sets of footfalls came down the stairs, the boys stopping beside their respective guardians once they'd reached the cave.

"Hi, Superman!" Dick sing-songed with a grin, his cheeks reddened from having just been outside. "Alfred said you brought the shield serum?!"

"Hey, Dick," he smiled back, bearing no ill feelings towards the child regardless of what was going on with his mentor. "I did. It's right there on the counter."

His head swiveled to Bruce. "Why haven't you taken it yet?"

"Because we got down here about forty seconds before you did, that's why."

"Oh. Well…when are you going to take it, then?"

"As soon as we test the controller and make sure it's working properly. We won't know if the shield is a success if we don't know that the controller is back together right."

"Sure," he nodded. "So…who's going to do it? Order you around?"

"You could." _To be honest, kiddo, I'd feel safest if you did it,_ he didn't add.

"No way," he shook his head immediately. "I can do it if you really need me to, but…please don't make me. I…I don't want to order you around like that, Bruce. It would just feel really wrong."

He frowned at the disturbed look that had come over his son's face at the suggestion. "I'm not going to make you, chum. If you don't want to, that's okay."

"…It is?"

"Yes. It is." He glanced between the other two adults, his mouth tightening as he considered social strategy. "…Clark."

"You sure you want _me_ to do it?"

"Someone has to," he shot back.

"Go ahead," Barry raised his hands. "I remember what it feels like to be helpless under that thing's control. I don't think I could do it to someone else."

"But I can, apparently," Superman said a tad bitterly. "Fine," he cut off the protests, one vehement, the other grudging, that began following his statement. He picked up the radio. "…Dick, maybe you should come stand over here," he suggested.

"Um…why?" the boy queried. _Bruce said I make things worse between you two. If I just do what you tell me to without questioning, it might hurt his feelings._

"We don't know for sure that this is correctly rebuilt. If we messed it up somehow, we don't know what it will do." His voice dropped. "If something goes wrong, Barry and Wally can run away, but you'd be in danger standing right next to Bruce. If you're here with me, I can protect you better."

He hesitated, his knowledge that his surrogate father would sooner die than hurt him purposefully warring with recollections of his nightmare from several days earlier. "…Bruce?" he asked hesitantly.

"Go ahead," the billionaire ordered gently. _As much as I hate it, he's right. If this goes wrong somehow, he can keep you safe from me. That's more important than the anger I feel when I see you standing there like you belong to __him__ instead of me…no matter how many times you reassure me otherwise, kiddo, I just don't know if I can get over being a __little__ jealous of your fanboy attitude towards him._

"Okay," he whispered, obeying. Once he was out of reach, Bruce took a deep breath.

"Do it."

"Make sure you're specific about who you're talking to," Barry inserted quickly. "Otherwise all of Sawyer's guards will hop up and start doing the Macarena, or, you know, whatever you tell Bruce to do."

"…Will the frequency travel that far without a boost?" Superman pondered.

"I don't know, we never tested distance."

"That doesn't matter right now," Bruce cut in. "And _do not_ tell me to do the Macarena."

"I wouldn't," the Kryptonian said in a tone that suggested he should have known as much. "Bruce…walk to the stairs and back."

His expression changed into that of a man who's forgotten something in another room. Turning, he strode with his usual purposefulness to the staircase, then about-faced and returned to the point he'd started from. As soon as the order was complete, his face slackened. "…Well?"

"It, ah…it works," Clark informed him, looking away. _That felt wrong. No one should have that sort of control over another person._

"I forgot how creepy that was," Barry mumbled.

Bruce's eyes fell to Dick, who had pulled his lower lip back between his teeth. His gaze was focused on the floor, but he glanced up every few seconds as if to verify that his guardian was still present. When he caught the man watching him with a mild line of concern between his eyebrows, he gave him a discreet nod and returned his mouth to its normal alignment.

"…Okay," he said once he knew the boy wasn't too overwrought by what they were doing. "Give me the shield serum."

Superman picked it up and crossed the short distance between them. "J'onn said to take the whole dose, so…good luck," he said just above a whisper, handing it over.

"…Yeah." _If something happens,_ suddenly leapt to the end of his tongue. He bit it back harshly as the other man stepped away. _Nothing will happen. J'onn wouldn't have sent it down if he wasn't sure it was fine. _Sparing his son a final look, he injected the entire syringe and closed his eyes.

Nothing happened. Frowning slightly, he looked down, pulled the needle from his arm, and chucked it towards the nearest garbage can. "…Am I supposed to feel this working?"

"I don't know. I didn't think to ask."

"We didn't really feel the reversal serum," Barry pointed out.

"That's true," Bruce nodded. Catching Dick's attention again, he sent him a tiny smile, and got a shaky one in return. _I'm sorry, kiddo, I know this is probably really scary…it'll be okay._ As if he'd heard him, the boy nodded and squared his shoulders a bit. _Keep it up, partner. It's fine._ "He said a few minutes, right?"

"Not long," the Kryptonian agreed.

"Well…" Barry tried to kill time. "At least we know the controller is functional."

"You know…not to raise any panic, but maybe we should test the controller on you, too," Clark suggested. "I know the receiving structures disappeared from your brain scan, but better safe than sorry."

"But-" Wally objected, breaking off when everyone turned to him. "…But you said you were okay," he said anxiously.

"And I am," the elder speedster assured. "We're just making triple sure. It's fine," he rested a hand on his shoulder for a moment. "You'll see."

Face scrunched, the redhead moved over a few feet to stand next to his friend. Barry, in turn, walked out to join Bruce. "Fun times," he murmured just before he turned around.

"Yeah," the billionaire huffed.

"…Go ahead, Clark. It's okay, Wally," he added, seeing the older boy fidgeting.

"I hate this, for the record," Superman threw out before lifting the radio for a second time. "Barry, walk to the stairs and back."

"How about no?" he grinned. "See? Totally cured." He glanced sideways. "Your turn again, I think," he said with an empathetic smile before returning to the others. Wally gravitated to his side gratefully, and was immediately pulled into a tight one-armed hug. "All better now, kid?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "Well…almost," his gaze slid back to the other child.

"…Are you ready?" the man with the controller asked. He could feel Dick trembling slightly, and let his hand rest on top of his head for just a second. _Let's do this quick,_ he decided when he received an angry nod from his test subject, who had clearly noticed the touch. "Bruce, walk to the stairs and back."

His face stilled, then put on a look of hard concentration. Everything was fuzzy for a moment as sound, light, and even smells blurred at the edges. Then he snapped back into himself, his senses clearing. "…Did I do it?" he asked, not entirely sure how much time had passed.

"No," Barry answered, a broad grin beginning to cross his mouth. "You didn't even twitch."

_Oh, thank god,_ he slumped slightly in relief. About that same time a frenzied bundle of acrobat leapt at him, and Bruce squeezed him close. "It's okay, chum," he whispered, finally able to make that promise without the slightest sense of guilt. "You found the answer, and made me better." A little sniffle came from the face pressed against his neck. _Oh, baby. I'm so sorry…_ He was just about to ask the others to give them a minute when the figure in his arms pulled back.

"…I think we should have giant snowball fight to celebrate," Dick said softly, swiping at his cheeks.

"You…want to have a snowball fight?" the billionaire nearly laughed. "…Like right _now_?"'

"Well, yeah. It would be so much fun with this many people."

"Would that make you feel like everything really is back to normal, Dicky?" he asked so only they could hear.

"Uh-huh," he nodded.

"Well, okay then. Snowball fight it is. Maybe some cocoa afterwards, yeah?"

"Yes, please."

"It has been proposed," he announced over his son's head, "that a snowball war take place to, ah, celebrate. Are there any objections?"

"Iris' thing starts at four…" Barry trailed off, pinned between a glare from Bruce and a pleading look from Wally. "…But if she's not used to us being late by now, she never will be. The first half hour is all recipes and babies, in any case."

Arms still occupied holding his son off the floor, he turned to Superman. "…Clark?" he invited, surprising himself.

The Kryptonian smiled a little sadly. "I'd make an odd number. Thanks, though." _I appreciate it, even if you were only asking to keep up appearances. I wish I knew what I'd done to offend you, Bruce. It's pretty tough for me to fix it otherwise._

With a displeasured little noise, Dick wriggled his way out of his guardian's grasp and dropped to the floor. He came to a halt in front of the man who had just declined and crossed his arms determinedly. "You have to stay. We'll be an odd number _without_ you."

"What…? Dick, there are five of us. If I _stay_ you'll be an odd number," he said gently.

"You're forgetting Alfred."

There was a moment of stunned silence. "…You're going to ask _Alfred _– Alfred _Pennyworth, _your _butler - _to be in a snowball fight?"

"Well, yeah. He'll want to celebrate, too, once he hears Bruce is fixed now. Besides, he said he has a secret method for making snowballs."

"I'm sorry, but since _when_ does Alfred join in snowball fights?" Clark asked in disbelief.

"Oh, I'm quite fond of them, actually, Mister Kent," the man in question appeared behind Bruce carrying a stack of folded clothes. "I took the liberty of bringing you down some civilian garments that I believe you'll find suitable. I assume you'll be staying for coffee? If so, you do know the rule regarding costumes above ground."

"How long have you been planning this?" Bruce sputtered.

"Planning, sir?" the butler turned. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"He thinks we pre-planned the snowball fight we're having to celebrate his not being mind-controlled anymore," Dick explained.

"Are you cured, Master Wayne? That is wonderful news. And a snowball fight sounds like a marvelous way to mark the occasion. Fortunately we already have appropriate cold weather clothing on hand for Mister Kent and Mister Allen."

"…You what?" Barry asked with an odd look on his face. "How…"

"It's okay, he just knows everything," Dick shrugged. "You get used to it after a while. Alfred," he turned pleadingly, "we have an odd number of people. Would you please, please, _please_ be on Wally and I's team?"

"Hey, what if _I _wanted to be on your team?" Bruce objected.

"Don't be silly. You can't fight against other members of the JLA," he gave him a meaningful look. _I saw that look you gave Superman when he was trying to make me feel better. Quit being all jealous of him. He's not a threat to you. I'm not going anywhere. _"That's just _wrong_."

The Englishman managed to bite back his chuckle. "Quite right, young sir. Terrible for morale. I'd be very pleased to be the third member of your team." He cast a glance about the room. _It is so nice to see them both with friends,_ he sighed to himself. _It's practically a miracle, to be honest, but a very lovely one._ "…I assume that's acceptable to you, Master Wayne?"

"Of course it is, Alfred, but-" he cut off suddenly as the smell of burning rubber assaulted their noses.

"Waaaally," Barry groaned as the younger speedster kicked off his smoking sneakers. "That's the third pair since you've been on break!"

"I'm sorry, I got excited! I didn't even realize I was moving my feet, Uncle Barry, honest!"

He sighed, shaking his head. "Hey Bruce, you wanna trade? You can afford his shoe bills better than I can," he said, winking at Wally to let him know it was a joke.

"You know, Barry, my kid might occasionally turn the living room into a tumbling studio and consider stairs to be a less efficient alternative to just jumping over the banister, but at least he hasn't set anything on fire yet. I'm good," he said amusedly.

"We need to have a strategy meeting," Dick said gravely, looking back and forth between his teammates. "You _know_ they aren't going to go easy on us."

"Damn straight we're not," Bruce tossed in. "Not after you snagged Alfred. I _know_ how sneaky he can be." _Hell, he's the one who taught me…_

"Yeah, but you have the fastest man in the world and an air force with heat vision. He could just melt all the snow around us if he wanted to. Aaaand I shouldn't have said that out loud," he made a face at himself. "Crud. Either way, I think you're starting out with the advantage here."

"…Do they square off like this often?" Clark asked Alfred in a low voice as he approached to take his civilian clothing.

"Oh, you should see them when there's a cake involved. It's quite adorable."

"This is going to be so wicked!" Wally squealed, overriding everyone. "I vote we have our strategy meeting in the kitchen," he added, dead serious.

"Of course you do," Barry smirked.

"Very good, young sirs," the butler nodded, herding the children to the stairs. "Gentlemen," he paused to send them a little bow. "We shall see you shortly on the field of battle."


	50. Chapter 50

The war raged for over an hour. In a nod to fairness, Barry and Clark agreed to hold back on using their powers, and after a little coercing Wally gave in, as well. The boys were both set on getting at least one good sneak attack in on their guardians, and when after a few minutes of stalking they found the pair having a brief powwow in a small clearing, their moment came.

Dick jumped into leader mode without even realizing it, waving for Wally to stay put while he and Alfred circled around silently and took up positions that trapped the two men in a triangle. After giving his partners a few minutes to create ammunition reserves, he snapped a piece of brush between his hands, signaling the beginning of the assault.

Bruce looked around at what he assumed was someone's foot breaking a twig only to catch a snowball full on in the face. There was no time to recover as more were launched from two other directions. _They surrounded us. I __knew__ letting him have Alfred was a bad idea…_ Dropping to his knees to return fire, he glanced over and found Barry laughing so hard that he was having trouble packing snow together. After the initial frenzy, the deliveriess fell into an unpracticed but automatic pace, and it didn't take long to figure out who was throwing from where. "We're going to be stuck here all day at this rate," he opined.

"You go after yours, I'll go after mine," Barry suggested.

"Don't forget about Alfred. Damn, where's Clark?"

"Won't Alfred, you know, hang back a little?"

"Barry, I don't think you understand. Snowball fights at Wayne Manor are no-holds-barred affairs. I'm pretty sure he's the one who got me in the face, and it's a pretty safe bet that that's _exactly _what he was aiming for."

"Oh. Shit."

"Yeah. Still…okay. You chase Wally, I'll chase Dick, and we'll just have to hope Clark shows up and distracts Alfred."

"Sounds like a-" he winced as a projectile exploded into cold powder right where his jacket met the back of his neck. "…Plan," he finished.

"Ready? Go!" Both bolted for the trees. Wally broke first, tearing off from the rest of his team in a fit of giggles as he tried to hold off his uncle with the best lumps of snow he could conjure up whilst bounding through the forest in a mild panic. Barry caught him quickly and gave him a playful whitewash before releasing him to be chased again.

Meanwhile, Bruce took refuge behind a stout bush near where he knew Dick had been hiding. The forest had gone quiet upon their exit from the clearing, excepting some faint afternoon birdsong and Wally's distant cries. Peeking around his barricade, the billionaire found the spot from which his son had conducted his campaign, two packed knee marks and a tumble of stirred snow giving it away. _But where did he go? _he wondered, eyes narrowing. Cautious, he crept forward, keeping low just in case he was under scrutiny. _If Alfred circled around to help either of the boys, he's more likely to come for Dick,_ he reminded himself, glancing around furtively in the full expectation that his butler was lurking nearby.

Examining the area, he found a single set of prints several feet away from the snow nest. _…Handprints? He did a handspring so his tracks would be less recognizable. Well, or because it's Dick, and he just does those on a whim._ Following the direction the prints seemed to indicate, he frowned. _There's a tree right where he would have had to land._ His face sobered. _Which means…_

He had just realized that the boy was perched somewhere above when a load of snow crashed down onto him. It wasn't enough to really hurt, but the surprise and weight was enough to knock him flat on his back. He laid there for nearly a full minute, half-buried and immensely proud.

"…Need some help there, teammate?" Clark suddenly blocked out the sun, grinning broadly.

"Where have you been? Barry and I got slaughtered a few minutes ago!" he glared.

"Sorry. I was on my way to help and got caught up in a, uh, duel with Alfred," he said sheepishly.

"…Who won?"

"He retreated. I caught him under some trees, so there really wasn't much snow for him to work with." He glanced up at the conifer behind him, a large section of its boughs freshly cleaned off. "Let me guess…Dick?"

"Naturally."

"Where'd you find him, again? The kiddie tactical genius store?"

"Ha. Ha," he pulled a face. "Did you see where he went?"

"No, I didn't."

"…Dick?" Bruce called, ignoring the hand Clark offered and climbing to his feet unassisted. "Are you still up there? Come down, I won't throw at you while you're in a tree."

"Giving him a bit of an edge, aren't you?"

"I'd rather give him an advantage than hit him in the face and have him fall," he snapped. "It might be a no-holds-barred fight, but I'm not going to purposefully risk his safety like that."

"Okay, understood." There was no movement or reply from above, and finally they had to concede that the child had somehow slipped away. "Let me try again; the kiddie ninja store?"

"No," he said gruffly.

The Kryptonian sighed heavily. "Bruce…look, would you please just tell me what's going on with you lately?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You've never exactly been open and warm with me, but you didn't used to be quite this cold and disdainful, either. At least not when we're out of costume. What changed? And don't say nothing, because we know it's not true."

"…We're in the middle of a war, and you want to talk about _feelings_?"

"We _need_ to talk about feelings, just in case we wake up tomorrow and have to go fight a real war with people who won't mind making us fall." He paused. "Come on, Bruce, this isn't fair. At least tell me what I did. You'll never say this, so I will; you're my friend, and I want to fix whatever's going on."

_Goddamn it._ "There's nothing going on." _I should just walk away. We are __not__ talking about this._ Despite the thought, his feet didn't move.

"Liar." He took a second to absorb the scowl that was sent his way. "…It's got something to do with Dick, I know that. So, what?"

"I…" _Do you know that he keeps a nightlight of you in his room? Do you realize how excited he gets when he hears you've said something about him? Do you have any idea how __annoying__ it is to watch your son semi-worship someone else? Someone who could maybe…maybe cherish him the way he deserves to be? _"It's nothing. We should find Barry and regroup." He started to walk away, but a hand on his arm stopped him.

"You're jealous," he shook his head, shocked. "_Why_? My god, man, if either of us has cause to be jealous-"

"Don't say it!" he growled. "Don't you _dare_ say it, Clark." _I knew it. I knew you wanted him for yourself. Jealous of me? Sure you are. You like Wally well enough, but you've been keeping an eye on Dick since the first time you met him. And who can blame you? If any human child could make an able companion for you, it would be him. But he is __mine__, goddamn it. And if keeping him with me means I have to turn on you, so be it._

"…What?"

"You _know_ what."

"Bruce, I have no ide-"

"You can't fucking have him!" he half-shouted. "He's _mine_! He's…he's mine," he quieted swiftly, looking away from where the other man stood, mouth agape. He hadn't meant to burst out like that, but it had been building up slowly for several months, ever since that last summer weekend that Clark had come up for. He'd gotten along so well with the boy, and something had been born in the pit of Bruce's stomach, a dark, twisting envy that he couldn't seem to chain. It didn't matter how good his own relationship was with Dick; the moment he saw his son beside Clark, the monster raised its head again. _…Shit._

"…Would you like to tell me something that isn't blatantly obvious, maybe?"

"What?!"

"Are you _serious_? Oh, my god, Bruce, you…you _honestly _believe I would try to take him from you? Are you _mental_?" He began to laugh.

"I…" He paused, slightly off-put by Clark's reaction to his outburst.

"You know, for a man who prides himself on attention to detail, you've sure missed a lot lately. At least, you have if you think I would even have a chance of winning him away from you."

"You're head of the JLA for a reason, Clark; because _no one_ can compete."

_That was truthful, at least, but I never realized that you carried that insecurity. I'm not sure why you do, though… _"There was never a competition!"

"There was _always_ a competition."

"Not in his mind," he shook his head.

"…You don't know that." _Is that true?_

"Yes, I do. And so do you. Don't you remember what J'onn said the night we found out that the reversal serum didn't work on you? 'You and Robin have a unique bond.' You know he doesn't go around telling that to everyone, and if anyone would know what was in that boy's mind, it would be J'onn. Do you know what Robin _himself_ said to me the other night? That unless you were in danger, he wouldn't share any of your secrets with me. He wasn't just standing up for his partner at that moment, I'll tell you that much. I really like him, Bruce, I really do, and I _love_ what he's done to you, but the thought of trying to _steal_ him from you…even if there was a chance of it working I wouldn't dare to try. It would destroy both of you." He paused. "And if that's not enough proof for you, just remember that he has yet to refer to me as 'daddy.'"

"He's right," a small, soft voice called as Dick stepped out of the hiding place from which he'd watched the entire argument. He padded straight to Bruce, not even glancing towards Clark, and stopped a few feet away. "I _told_ you. Why didn't you believe me?"

"Dick…" _I didn't mean for you to hear any of that,_ he breathed silently. "…Why the nightlight?" fell out of his mouth. _Oh, fucking hell, Bruce, you idiot._

"I thought it would be too obvious otherwise," he shrugged as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"…What?" _Oh. Oh, god, you have got to be kidding me. __Really__? Am I this stupid? I am. I am this stupid. Christ._

"Well…the rule is no Batman and Robin stuff upstairs. And I know that means like costumes, and weapons, and stuff, but…I was thinking about it, and if someone was in my room, even if they weren't thinking anything about Batman and you and trying to put them together…well, what if it triggered something? What if _somehow_ it…you know…made them put two and two together? I know it's not very likely," he tacked on, feeling both adults staring at him, "but it still bugged me. I really _wanted_ the Batman one, Bruce, but…it was safer to choose my second favorite, and just try to remember that if it wasn't enough my first choice was right down the hall, in real life." He scuffed his boot in the snow. "Is…is that what it really was? The night light?"

He tried to ignore Clark's sniggering in the background. "There were other…contributing factors," he acknowledged, "but…the night light was kind of the catalyst to a chain reaction, yes."

Dick peered at him for a second. "…Brains are weird," he announced finally.

Bruce let out a bark of laughter. "Yeah, chum, they are. Really, really weird." He knelt. "…Forgive me for not being able to take you at your word?" he opened his arms hopefully.

"Yup," he grinned, jumping into the hug. "…Are you gonna get all angry again if I give Clark a hug, too? I promise it won't be as long as this one," he asked quietly.

The billionaire had to concentrate to keep from squeezing him too hard. "I think I can handle it," he whispered.

"…Thanks, daddy." Then he pulled away and strode across the snow to the man watching the proceedings. "…Do you want one, too?"

"You bet I do. Provided it won't, ah, fan the flames?" he cast a questioning look at Bruce.

"…Go ahead," he tried not to grumble as he looked away.

The boy pulled back after a second, sticking strictly to his oath not to let this embrace go longer than his previous one. "You know, Dick," Clark said half-jokingly, "I'm pretty sure we could drop you off at the UN for a weekend and have world peace by Monday. If nothing else, you could just hug everyone until they melted."

He blushed. "Weaponizing hugs sounds like something a super villain would do. But…" he glanced purposefully back at his guardian, still gazing into the trees. "I think there's maybe one more that should happen right now, even though he'll probably think of it as an attack."

"He might kill me," the Kryptonian warned jestingly.

"You're Superman," the child rolled his eyes with a smile. "I think you'll live."

"…Thanks, pal," he ruffled his hair. "You were right. It's nice to have help sometimes."

"That's what I'm here for," he beamed.

Bruce looked around as Clark drew to a halt in front of him. "…What?" he huffed. _Yes, I was jealous, yes, it wasn't very smart of me. Can we just forget about it without saying anything?_

"Yes, Clark, I was a big idiot who couldn't see what was right in front of his face and painfully obvious to everyone else in the world. Can you ever forgive me?" the other man said in a squeaky voice. "Why, of course I can, Bruce, that's what friends are for. C'mere, give me a hug and we'll forget the whole thing." His tone returned to normal. "You'll never say the first part to let me lead into the second part, so I said it for you," he shrugged, grinning.

"…I sound nothing like that."

"Oh, for god's sake," Clark said exasperatedly, then jerked the billionaire into an embrace.

"…Clark. Let go of me."

"Not until you hug me back. How will I know you aren't mad anymore otherwise?" Somewhere behind him he heard Dick giggle.

"Clark. Release me."

"I will, just as soon as you-" A fist pounded twice into his shoulder none-too-softly. "…I'll take that as the closest thing to a gentle pat of conciliation that I'm likely to get," he conceded, loosening his grip. "…Friends?"

"…If you insist."

"I love how Barry gets the royal treatment, and I get 'if you insist,'" he crossed his arms. "Who's known you and, consequently, put up with your bull, for longer?"

"…Barry understands things that you do not. And it was just coffee while the boys were playing."

"Really? What things does he have some special understanding of that I'm oblivious to?"

Bruce looked pointedly towards Dick.

"So what, I'm out of the club because I'm kidless?"

"There is no club."

"Are you two _seriously_ fighting again?" Barry tromped out of the brush, Wally on his heels. Both were completely covered in powder from their romping. "And what club?"

"The kid club."

"Clark thinks he's excluded because he doesn't have a kid," Dick informed the new arrivals, skipping over to stand next to Wally.

"…So go _get_ one," the elder speedster shrugged. "Not to sound like I'm twelve or anything, but…duh?"

"There is no club!" Bruce exclaimed. "And you can't just…waltz out one day and come home with a child in tow!"

"I dunno, that method seemed to work out pretty well for us, didn't it?"

The billionaire opened his mouth, then closed it without speaking.

"I don't necessarily want one," Clark raised his hands. "Although I wouldn't object to occasionally borrowing one or both of them. It looks kind of weird when a grown man goes into an ice cream parlor by himself."

"Hey, so long as you aren't picking him up in a windowless van, it's fine with me," Barry shrugged. "Bruce?"

"…I'll consider your suggestion."

"That's a yes," Dick informed them.

"Dick! I said _maybe._"

"Well, _now _you did," Clark grinned.

"…Shut up, Clark," he mumbled. For the first time in a while, the words carried no malice.

"Ah, here we all are," Alfred unfolded himself from the lengthening shadows. "Boys!" he exclaimed, feigning shock. "I certainly hope you weren't fraternizing with the enemy?"

"Uhh…" Wally blushed, thinking about the fact that he'd spent the last half hour technically doing just that.

"Nope," Dick covered for him. "We were embedded behind enemy lines. You know, infiltration and intelligence gathering practice."

"Very good, young sir," the butler nodded solemnly.

"But…Dick, you just _told_ them that we were spying!"

"Eh," he shrugged and shot a look at Bruce and Clark. "I think the war's kind of over, Wally. It's okay. But…that means it's time for some of Alfred's epic hot chocolate. Right?" he turned to the Englishman.

"Quite, Master Dick. Shall we make our way to the house?"

"Hold up," Barry asked. "Who won?"

"Everyone did, I believe, Mister Allen," Alfred replied, starting back towards the manor.

"Oh. Hey, works for me. C'mon, Wally."

"Okay. Hey, Dick, you should have seen it, I _totally_ caught Uncle Barry off guard and hit him with this _giant_ snowball. It went, like, right in his ear. He cursed like crazy."

"Hey, don't tell your aunt about those words!" the offender said. "You didn't hear _anything._"

"I know, I know…"

Bruce walked slowly, watching his son trudge ahead in the company of his friend. Clark kept pace with him, but didn't speak until they were nearly out of the trees. "…You really are a lucky man, you know."

"Don't remind me. It's bad luck."

"You don't believe in luck."

"…I didn't used to."

He slung an arm across his shoulders. "You're a damn good father, Bruce. I never thought I'd say that, but…he's almost as lucky to have you as you are to have him."

"…Clark?"

"Hmm?" Glancing over, the Kryptonian saw a tiny smile creep onto the other man's face.

"You can move your arm, or you can lose it."

"I see you've been taking charm lessons from Dick," he said sarcastically as he pulled away. "At this rate, you'll be suitable for company by the time he graduates college. Maybe."

"Ha. Ha." They reached the house, and Bruce paused on the porch. "Barry has to take Wally home soon," he started. "…But you know Alfred likes to cook for more than two people on occasion. And…it would probably make Dick happy if you stayed for dinner."

"Oh, well," he smiled. "If it would make _them_ happy, how can I refuse?"

**Author's Note: Tomorrow is the epilogue! Thanks so much to everyone who has read this far, and a special thanks to everyone who's been kind enough to review. For those of you who are wondering, yes, there will be a sequel. Details on that tomorrow. ****Happy reading!**


	51. Epilogue

"Do you feel better now, Bruce?" Dick asked after they'd seen Superman out through the Zeta tube.

"…Yeah, kiddo," he nodded slowly. "I do." A small hand tucked itself into his as they made their way to the stairs.

"Yay," he said happily as they climbed. "Sawbones is in jail, you've got a brain shield in case he ever gets out somehow, and you and Superman are friends again. I think that means it was a pretty good break, don't you?"

_It would have been preferable if Sawyer hadn't been involved, you hadn't been hurt, and I had been…well…less of an idiot, but…at least all of that is fixed now, like you said._ "I agree."

"…I just wish we could do something about the guards," the boy lamented. "…Do you think that we can?"

"Well…" Bruce considered. _I could hypothetically get the shield serum to Woodward. The question is, would he actually administer it to the others that Sawyer mind-controlled? Even if he did, I can't imagine him letting them go, or even just sending them to trial, without trying to find out what they know about Sawyer. If he probes too deeply like he nearly did with Reznik, he __will__ end up killing one or more of them. There's no way for us to find out how to get around the memory blocks, not without Sawyer fessing up or us finding an answer in his lab. Which he blew up. Christ._ "…Did you find any good leads when you were researching potential sites for the remains of his lab?"

"No. He's…he's _really_ good at hiding things. I mean, Batman's really good at that, too, but Sawbones…it's like his superpower."

"Let's just hope he doesn't decide to chemically enhance himself while he's in prison," the billionaire said. _Because that's what the world needs; a genius chemist with a penchant for mind control and putting things where no one can find them making himself into a metahuman. _He shuddered slightly. "We'll keep looking for his lab. Maybe he had a second site; we'll look for that, too. To be honest, though, Dicky…he hid himself and his work for five years, and it wasn't just me looking. The Feds had a team assigned to monitor for any sign of him, too. For a while, even NATO had someone keeping tabs on the situation; you don't just shrug and move on to other things when a man like Daniel Sawyer vanishes into thin air. I don't really think we're likely to find it, if it even exists."

"…So the guards are just stuck like that?"

"Unless we figure out how to get around the memory blocks, we'd be putting their lives in danger by making them able to communicate in any way," he sighed. "I'm not happy with it, but I'd be less happy if we freed them and Woodward killed them all trying to find answers."

"But that's no life, Bruce. They're breathing, but they aren't really living. Are they?"

"I don't know, kiddo. But at least this way they have a chance at life again someday, if we ever manage to find the solution or if they get passed back into the civilian world where it's safe to try and wake them up without worrying about agents swarming in and asking all the wrong questions." He glanced down and saw sadness writ large on his son's expression. "…I'll talk it over with Superman, how about that? He's a lot more, uh, _accepted_ by the bureaucracy than Batman is. Maybe he knows somebody who can leash Woodward and make sure that the guards won't be interrogated to death if they come out of their stupors. If nothing else, he should be able to get them to agree to give the others the shield serum."

"Okay," he nodded, somewhat placated by the knowledge that they were going to continue trying to give the other mind-controlled men their lives back. "…Can we go on patrol tonight?" he shifted topics. "It's Saturday."

"We can, _but_," he stressed, "it will be a short one for you. You have school on Monday, remember? We need to get your sleep pattern back to normal. Well…Robin-normal."

"…Stupid old school," he grumbled.

"Gotham Academy starts a little later in the day," Bruce conceded. "maybe once you're settled in there we can stay out longer on patrols."

"Really?!"

"We'll see." _But, as you noted earlier, that probably means yes._

They gained the top of the stairs and stood for a moment. "Dinner was fun. It was cool how interested Clark was in hearing about our tour of R&D. I thought he might get bored, but he didn't."

"He…takes an interest in you."

"…You don't still dislike that, do you?" he frowned.

"Dick, I'm always going to be a little jealous of how friendly you and he are. You're both fairly open people, and that's something I'll never be."

"Except for with me, right?" the boy asked cautiously.

"Except for with you," he smiled softly, squeezing his hand. "I don't understand how you can just share so much of yourselves with others at the drop of a hat. But I know he cares about you, and…he's not a bad ally to have sometimes," he admitted.

"…Does that mean you're going to let him borrow me, like he mentioned?"

"If you're comfortable with it, I'm willing to consider the specifics of whatever plan he comes up with."

"Awesome! And…well, maybe next time you and Barry have a civilian day you should invite Clark, too. I mean, I know he doesn't have a kid, but…I think not being included kind of really hurt his feelings," he informed him with wide, serious eyes.

Bruce sighed. "Believe it or not, Dick, I actually didn't exclude him on purpose. The only reason things happened the way they did today was because Barry kind of forced it, at least initially. I wanted him to just drop Wally off, but he insisted on staying in case he was needed. I was off-kilter enough just having him upstairs and trying to be myself; the last thing I needed was for the issues I had with Clark to be present at the same time."

"I guess I can see that. But next time should be better. You have lots of practice being yourself with Clark, and plus it's easier with Barry now, too, right?"

"Yes, it is." He'd been surprised at how quickly his reserves had fallen with the speedster, but chalked it up to their shared experiences with sudden parenthood. _And for all that Batman tends to scowl at Flash's jokes,_ he confessed to himself, _I usually end up laughing at them once I'm home. That probably didn't hurt the transition any._ "It's not a bad suggestion. I'll keep it in mind, okay?"

"Okay," he grinned. "…I wonder if Alfred had time to make cookies today?"

"We just ate. Is Wally's appetite rubbing off on you?" Bruce teased.

"Nope. I just like cookies."

"I can't really blame you for that, but why don't we wait until after patrol in any case?"

"Then can we watch a movie instead?"

"I have some paperwork…" He looked down to find a pout in full display, and groaned. "Oh, fine. You win. It has to be kind of short, though, if you want to patrol. What did you have in mind?"

"Toy Story."

_Of course, you devious little… _"You're going to really pound this jealousy thing into my skull, aren't you?"

"Well, you kind of made it necessary, Bruce. Besides, the movie's only eighty minutes. And I happen to like it."

"All right, but no more beating this particular dead horse, okay? I get it."

"…Eww. Why'd you have to bring dead animals into it? I hate that expression."

"I didn't know that."

"It's okay." He was quiet as they walked into the den. "…You know, it would be a lot easier if you could just be even, like, a quarter as open with other people as you are with me."

"I've never been able to manage it, chum," he confessed as he loaded the disc. "I can fake it – you've seen me do that plenty – but it's not something the real me can do with most people."

"Yeah," the boy nodded. "But…I guess that's okay. This way I get to be, like, your special secret-keeper. And I like that job."

"Good," Bruce said, sitting down beside him as the menu screen came up. "I'm glad you do. Now, come here," he gestured, draping his arm around the boy when he curled against him. _Clark got it wrong,_ he thought as Dick sighed happily. _I'm not just a very lucky man, I may well be the luckiest man._ He released an exhalation identical to his son's. _I just hope like hell that it lasts._

* * *

The rest of Saturday and the whole of Sunday passed in a pleasure-filled blur for Dick. Patrol, a dreamless sleep, and one of Alfred's famous brunches preceded a final winter break sledding expedition to the north hill and several hours of intense training in the cave. Bruce showed him a few new moves, coached him through them at least a dozen times each, then released him to his own devices on the bars until bed. By the time he dozed off, securely tucked beneath his covers and with his guardian's goodnight kiss fresh against his scalp, he'd all but forgotten that he had to return to school the next morning.

Alfred, unfortunately, was unaware of his blissful state, and woke him the next morning with a reminder of exactly that. "Come, Master Dick, you'll have to hurry your breakfast if you stay abed any longer."

_Oh, no. School. I forgot._ Regardless of the fact that Ricky wasn't allowed back until the next day, he still dreaded it. _The other kids will say mean things even if he's not there,_ he knew. _Being shot and sick was better than dealing with that, except that it made Bruce worry so much…_ "I don't feel good," he announced. "I mean, I'm not like _sick_ sick, but…I don't think I should go to school today. I might give it to the other kids, and that would just be mean."

The butler's eyes softened as he perched on the edge of the mattress. _I know better than that, dear child,_ he thought, _but I'll play along, because I also know __why__ you're trying to pull this little trick._ Placing a hand on his forehead, he frowned slightly. "I'm afraid your temperature isn't up, young sir. What are your symptoms?"

"Um…my head hurts. And my stomach. I feel a little nauseous." It wasn't a lie; thinking about the day in store was enough to make him feel physically ill.

"Hmm…That _is_ a shame. I had made strawberry waffles for you, but if you're unable to eat them, I'll just have to throw them away," he shook his head. "It's unfortunate, really; this batch of strawberries was likely the last really fresh ones I'll be able to get for a few months."

The boy looked away.

"Master Dick," Alfred said gently. "Please don't insult my intelligence, or your own. We both know that you are perfectly healthy this morning. A bit nervous, I'm sure," he smiled understandingly, "but healthy nonetheless. I wish I could do something more to help, but I have no good cause to keep you home today, and I don't imagine that will change tomorrow or the next day, either." He patted his arm, then stood. "If you would like to get up in the next five minutes," he added, "Master Wayne has not yet left for work. He is getting close to that point, however, so I advise that you hurry if you wish to see him off. I will keep your waffles warm in the kitchen in case your stomach happens to settle before we have to go." With that, he left, leaving the door open as an indicator that falling back asleep was not an option.

Despite his hesitations, the day was less miserable than he'd expected. Bruce gave him an extra-tight hug before he walked out the door and reminded him that he had just a few more days, and those two factors helped push him through the remarks and dirty looks some of the other children did, indeed, throw at him. The low point came at the very end of school, when one of Ricky Van Cleave's minions approached him as he pulled on his coat. "Hey, freak," he nudged him roughly. "Don't forget who comes back tomorrow, huh? Your ass is grass, boy toy."

He could have told the teacher about the other child's offensive language. He thought about just punching him, especially when he focused on the final two words that had been spat at him. But instead of doing either of those things he took a slow, deep breath, turned, and fixed the bully with the closest thing to a Batglare he could manage.

Blanching, Van Cleave's crony stumbled backwards, banging into a desk. A second later he pushed past it, all but knocking the table over, and walked swiftly to the door, glancing back over his shoulder the entire way.

_Whoa,_ Dick thought in shock. _I knew it was effective, but…just __whoa__. And I probably didn't even do it very well; it's not like I've practiced or anything. _He paused. _Maybe I __should__ practice it…_

He was doing exactly that later in the evening when Bruce came up to get him for dinner. "…Chum?" he pushed the door open, catching him glowering at himself in the mirror. "Dick, what are you doing?" _That's a nasty look to be giving yourself. _His forehead creased. _I hope this isn't the start of a body image problem. You're kind of young, but then again people with your skill set are promoted as looking a certain way, and you're getting to an age where the natural tininess you possess may not hold. …Anything would be preferable to that, really. You eat little enough as it is sometimes._

"Huh?" he looked up, then blushed when he realized he'd been caught. "Oh. I was just…um…"

"'Um' what, kiddo?" he asked, stepping closer.

"I was practicing my glare," he mumbled an admission.

"…Huh?" Bruce echoed.

"Well…Ricky comes back to school tomorrow. And today one of his friends was being mean to me, and I didn't really mean to do it, but…I glared at him. I thought of how the parts of you I can see when you're giving someone a Batglare look, and I tried to copy it. It worked," he shrugged. "So I figured I should practice, and maybe if Ricky tries anything I can…you know…scare him off. You're…you're not upset, are you? I mean, I know it's kind of your signature thing, but…"

Bruce chuckled, delighted. "Dick, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. I don't mind. Especially if you're going to use it against _that_ little bastard." He immediately glanced over his shoulder. "Don't repeat that," he added, low.

"I won't. So…I can borrow it? The glare, I mean?"

"Of course you can. You've got a pretty good start on it, from what I saw."

"…Think it's good enough to work?"

"I wouldn't throw it at a hardened criminal just yet, but a pampered little prick like Van Cleave will probably faint," he snickered. "…Don't repeat that one, either."

"Sure," he giggled back.

Armed with a few pointers from his guardian on producing a really baleful sneer to go along with his stare of doom, Dick barely even quailed at the thought of going to school the next morning. His step faltered only slightly as he entered his classroom and actually caught sight of the hulking pre-teen, but he steeled himself and made his way to his desk as if he hadn't even noticed his presence. Ricky kept his distance, but he knew better than to be lulled into a false sense of security. _There's still one day left, and as stupid as he is, he knows that._ _ He was whispering with some of the other boys at lunchtime today – I'll bet they were making plans for tomorrow. That's fine,_ he thought. _It just means I have another night to practice._

Wednesday morning, the entire class could feel the tension in the room building as the clock crawled towards recess. Even the teacher seemed to catch that something was off, and kept giving her students strange looks as if she knew they were up to something but couldn't quite figure out what. When the lunch bell rang, Dick wasted no time, skipping the lines for food entirely and heading straight out onto the playground.

He'd planned for this the night before, and decided that he would be best served by starting with his back literally against a wall. _He can't sneak around me that way,_ he'd reasoned, absolutely certain that Ricky Van Cleave would have absolutely no qualms with trying to take him down from behind. _Plus, maybe feeling cornered will help me channel Robin if I get scared. If it works against the dark, it should work against a bully, too. I'll just have to keep better control this time, so I don't hit him…_

He hadn't been nestled in a corner of the building for very long when, just as he'd suspected, his torturer and five of his supporters swelled out of the cafeteria doors. One of them spotted him immediately, and the entire group turned and made their way over. As they drew to within a few feet, though, Dick had to grin; the walls were close enough that they could only stand three abreast as they faced him, leaving half of their group to stand on tiptoes as they tried to see over the vanguard.

"D'you have a good break, circus freak?" the first charge was sounded.

"Yup," he answered shortly, making it clear that he wasn't interested in playing games.

"Oh, yeah? That so-called guardian of yours really gave it you hard, huh? Like what, two, three times a day? Little bitch, I'll bet you loved it." His followers tittered nervously.

"I'm warning you, Van Cleave," he said evenly. "Stop this now." He hadn't planned on giving him a chance to quit, but after an hour in front of his mirror the night before he'd managed to make _himself_ jump, so he figured it was only fair. _After all, he has no idea what's coming if he doesn't_.

"Like hell. You need to _know_ what a junk-ass little freak you are, and I'm gonna make sure you go to that queer academy across town with a few marks to remind you for when I'm not around."

"…Think you can actually manage to hit me this time?" he taunted slightly. _You're playing with fire,_ he heard Bruce's voice in his head. _Remember, he's got back-up. Don't get overconfident._

"Shouldn't be hard. You're surrounded. But," he went on, eyes dancing with what he was about to say, "I have a question before we put you in the hospital."

_Where does he get this stuff, wrestling? Seriously, Ricky, are you capable of original thought? Because I have to admit, I really doubt it._ "Well, I'm a captive audience."

"…Huh?"

He snorted disdainfully. _Of course you wouldn't get that. _"Ask your question."

"Oh. Well, I heard that Batman framed that Zucco guy. I heard," he leaned in, "that the circus director paid him off to do it because it was _you_ who killed all those other freaks. So I was wondering…what's it feel like to kill your own parents? Sure, they were gypsy scum just like you, but still…do you dream about it? Do you still hear them scream? I heard that they screamed right before they hit the ground," he informed his cohorts.

He had a clear shot – several, in fact – and he felt all of his muscles contract in preparation. _No,_ he stopped himself just in time. _He's not worth it. You can still get him without breaking any of the rules. Do it that way. It will stay with him longer, and it won't make him a martyr. More importantly, it won't be anything Bruce can be upset about. _Decision made, he smirked, showing just the barest hint of teeth as his eyes narrowed dangerously. "I don't hear their screams anymore," he lied, speaking as low as he could. "I only hear yours."

"…What the hell is that supposed to mean, traveling trash?" the ringleader asked, shifting slightly as the glare focused on his face.

_You know what, Ricky? Fine. You want to tease me for being part Rom? I think I know a way to make you regret the day you first heard the word 'gypsy.' _"Heh. I should have known you were too stupid to think about gypsy curses before you decided to make me your target." A couple of the assembled gang gasped audibly at that. Someone swore.

"…He's bluffing," Van Cleave announced with only a mild tremor in his voice. "If he could really do that, he would have done it last time."

Dick had to admit that that was a more intelligent response than he'd thought the boy in front of him capable of. "No," he shook his head, keeping his expression steady. "You see, I was waiting for you to say the _magic words_." Extending a hand, he leaned slowly forward, splaying his fingers upwards towards the taller child's face and making as if to touch him.

Ricky fell back a step, eyes wide. His minions rushed to huddle behind him, whispering and gawking in terror.

"What's the matter, Van Cleave?" he laughed gleefully. _"Scared?"_

The bully swallowed hard, his father's voice echoing in his head. _'No son of mine backs down from a fight. You ever run away from someone out of fear, Ricky, and I swear to god I'll disown you quicker than you can say pansy.' _It was practically a lullabye in their house, and as much as he wanted to flee, the power the elder Van Cleave still held in his mind prevented it. _Someone will tell,_ he cast a glance around his assembly. _They're all rats, someone will tell on me, and he'll find out._ _I'm not s-scared, _he felt his breaths to come harder and faster. _You can't call me that, you skinny little billionaire's bed toy. __I'm__ not scared. I'm __not__-_ His emotions sufficiently befuddled, he lashed out, lunging forward and throwing a punch intended to cause as much damage as possible.

Dick knew immediately that the result he'd hoped for – _just run away, Ricky, run away and cry, bring down that abusive legend you've built up among these other kids – _wasn't going to happen. He watched his opponent's face morph from fear, to terror, to determination, and then to rage. _Oh. So that was too far. Oops._ A fist was raised, then swung. _Way too slow, dude,_ he sighed, dropping into a crouch with plenty of time to spare. _I'm sorry about your arm, though. I mean, I was standing against a wall, and-_

The crunch and immediate howl that issued as the older boy's hand slammed into the bricks told him that the threat was neutralized. As Van Cleave fell to the snow, wailing and clutching his shattered arm, his compatriots backed away, all staring at Dick as he regained his full height. After a stunned second, one ran off, the others following without hesitation as two teachers hustled over.

"Oh, my god, what happened?" the first adult to arrive inquired as he bent over the injured child.

Dick looked the other straight in the eye and told the truth. "He tried to punch me again," he spoke over his classmate's shrieks. "I ducked, and he hit the wall." He pointed to a small amount of blood that marked where the fist had connected. "See?"

"…Come with me," the instructor jerked his head. The boy followed him silently past the swiftly gathering crowds of students, hearing his name more than once in the flurry of gossip that was already spreading through them. The halls were blissfully quiet, insulated from the bully's ululations and the rumors of the other children. He was completely unsurprised when he was led to the principal's office and ordered to sit down and wait.

Ten minutes passed before anyone came, and in the interim he felt some of his courage drain back down into the well he'd drawn it up from. When the door finally opened, he jumped slightly, gulping.

"…Well, Richard?" the headmaster asked once he'd seated himself behind his desk.

"…Mr. Froelich, I never touched him. I swear, I didn't lay a hand on him." _I sure threatened to, though,_ he grinned internally. _Thank you, Hollywood, for perpetuating a bad stereotype. It served me well today._

"Ricky Van Cleave is on the way to the hospital in an ambulance. He appears to have a fractured wrist, several broken bones in his hand, and severely abraded knuckles. Can you explain that?"

"It's like I said outside, sir. He tried to punch me again, so I ducked." He shrugged. "His hand hit the wall. I think he left blood on it, actually."

"So you feel no remorse for his injuries?"

"…I didn't make him hit the wall, Mr. Froelich. I was just trying to keep him from hitting _me_. Again," he added.

There was a knock at the door, and Geertz entered. "Mr. Froelich, the boy's father is here," he informed them.

Dick's eyes widened. _Oh, crap. Mr. Van Cleave is probably even worse than Ricky…and I can't even hit him back, he's an adult and I'm not in costume…_ He stared at the door as the counselor stepped back to let the new arrival in. "…_Bruce_?!"

"Hey, kiddo," he answered, looking slightly confused. "Oof," he couldn't help when his son dove into him. "…Dick, what's going on?" he asked, cupping the back of his head gently as he sensed his distress.

"Mr. Wayne, I'm Horace Froelich. We've met before," the principal stood and offered his hand. Bruce took it, raising an eyebrow.

"I get the feeling I should sit down," he said drily.

"If you would, please, sir. Mr. Geertz, if you'll stay as well?"

Once Bruce was seated, Dick standing beside him but keeping his head buried in his guardian's shoulder, Froelich spoke. "What I understand to be the second incident between your ward and Ricky Van Cleave just occurred on the playground, Mr. Wayne."

"Oh?"

"Yes. As you see, Richard is fine."

"…Is that what you call tears and trembling, Mr. Froelich? 'Fine?'"

The principal's eye twitched. "In comparison to the other boy, those are paper cuts. Ricky is on his way to the hospital with several broken bones."

_Shit. I said __channel__ Robin, not put him on display! _"…Dick?" he asked, low.

"I never touched him, Bruce, I swear!" he cried out, arms locked around his neck. "He tried to punch me, and I ducked because he would have flattened my head, and he hit the wall instead! There's blood and everything, I've told two people now and no one believes me!"

The billionaire's hawk-like gaze turned back to the administrator. "…Mr. Froelich?"

"I'll admit, Mr. Wayne, that I find it difficult to believe that your ward could have purposefully done that kind of damage to a boy so much older and larger than he is, but…the Van Cleaves are already having a fit. I spent five minutes on the phone with them just before you arrived."

"…Is there, in fact, blood on the wall?"

"…Yes."

"And witnesses, too, I assume?"

"We're rounding up the, ah, usual gang that Ricky Van Cleave runs with. I'm sure they'll be able to tell us something."

"So what's the problem? It seems fairly obvious to me what happened. Is there something I'm missing?"

Even through his tears, Dick almost smiled at the question. _If only they knew who they're talking to, they'd know what a silly idea that is,_ he thought. Bruce's hand snaked around and rested comfortingly on his back as Geertz broke in.

"Mr. Froelich, Roderick Van Cleave has a history of bullying, as you are aware. He has certainly been in this room enough times in the past to answer for that very offense. While it is true that in their last encounter Richard caused Roderick injury, it is my firm belief that the slanders that Richard had endured over the preceding months were sufficiently cruel to warrant some kind of response. I have no doubt that the same circumstances were the driver behind today's incident, and I am prepared to state as much in a court of law if necessary."

"Well, you may have to do just that, Hans. Van Cleave was already talking lawsuit when I spoke with him. Not just against the school, but against you personally, Mr. Wayne."

"That's cute."

"…I'm sorry, sir, I must have misheard you," Froelich asked for clarification.

"I said, that's cute. Their son has a known history of abusive and violent behavior towards other children, including towards my son specifically. The possibility of a nine-year-old inflicting the kind of damage you described is non-existent. Even if it _was_ likely, there are bodily fluids that back up Dick's account of events and which have been witnessed by, from the sound of things, several adults. Broderick Van Cleave has been a cruel, abusive ass since _we_ were children, and I'm not surprised in the least that his child is of the same character. I hope he _does_ sue me, Mr. Froelich, because I'm looking forward to watching him flounder in front of a judge." He stood. "Was there anything else? We have an appointment to get to."

"I…no," the principal shook his head. "I'll contact your office if I have anything else I need to discuss with you."

"Good. Oh, and Mr. Froelich, I'll be sending my butler back by later to collect Dick's personal items from his class. I assume that will be fine?" His voice didn't leave any room for it not to be, but he asked the question in any case.

"Of course," he slumped. _Wayne will get out of this without a problem, but the school is screwed. How did the playground monitors not see what was going on before it got to this point? Hell, we'll be lucky if Wayne doesn't sue us himself…from the looks of things, his kid whould have landed in a coma if that punch had connected..._

"Mr. Geertz," Bruce nodded to him gratefully. "C'mon, kiddo. Alfred's waiting." Keeping a hand on his shoulder, he guided him from the office and out to the car. "Let's get out of here," he said as soon as they were inside and buckled.

The butler cast a concerned look at the still-crying child in the backseat, but didn't say anything.

"…Dicky?"

"Uh-h-huh?"

"…He punched the wall?"

"He d-did," he nodded tearfully.

Bruce chuckled lightly. "What'd you have to say to get him to do that?"

The boy straightened, his sobs quieting as he stared at the man beside him. "You…I…how'd you know?"

"The glare should have scared him off, at least if you managed as good of one as you did last night when you were practicing," he answered. "So you must have said something to make it more than just fear he was feeling."

"I _did_ get him to back off," he admittedly, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. Bruce quickly handed him a tissue before Alfred saw him switch to his nose. "Thanks. But…well, he stepped backwards, and I saw that he was scared, and…and I wanted to make sure the others didn't see him as being brave anymore. So I asked if he was scared, because I was trying to discredit him, and…he tried to punch me. I ducked, and…well, you know the rest."

"What others?" His eyes narrowed.

"Oh. He had five of his friends with him when he came up to me."

_Son of a bitch. Trust a Van Cleave to be too afraid to face his battles on his own merit. _"Guess he didn't know you spend your weekends taking down gang assault squads and crazy chemists, huh?"

"Of course he didn't. Besides, I had help those other times," he shrugged. "I was alone today."

"But the glare got him to step back, did it?"

"Well…partly." He blushed, a little embarrassed as he looked back on what he'd used to rile Van Cleave up.

"What else did you use?" the billionaire asked, curious.

"…You know how he always teases me about the circus, and being part Romany?"

"Yes." He bristled slightly as he recalled the nasty phrase Janine Van Cleave had uttered about his son during their last encounter.

"Well…I _might_ have threatened to put a gypsy curse on him, and then acted like I was going to do it right then and there."

Bruce blinked several times, his face frozen, and then burst out laughing, bending forward over his knees helplessly. "Oh, oh my _god_, Dick, that's _perfect,_" he gasped. In the front seat, Alfred, too, was chortling, one gloved hand covering his mouth discreetly, the other clutching the steering wheel. "He probably wet himself with fear, oh, _god_…"

"Please, Master Wayne," the butler tried to keep a straight face. "This is a child we're – oh, do you know what? Never mind. The little hellion deserved it. Well done, Master Dick."

He looked between them, laughing a little but also slightly confused. "I…you're not mad at me? I mean, he wasn't supposed to get hurt, I just…I just didn't want him to pick on someone else once I was gone, you know?"

"I couldn't be mad at you right now if I tried, chum," Bruce told him, still slightly breathless as he leaned back against his seat and reached over the ruffle the boy's hair. "Didn't I tell you that you could best him?"

"…Bruce, you told me to avoid him," he crossed his arms.

_Oh. Right. _"…I only told you that because I knew you would figure out a better way," he attempted to cover.

"Nice try," Dick grinned knowingly, beginning to feel much, much better. _I don't ever have to go back to that place again,_ he realized. _Bruce even said he'd send Alfred back for my stuff…_

"No good, huh?"

"Nope."

"That's okay, because I have a surprise for you."

"…What?"

"Aren't you wondering why I came to get you, and at lunch at that?"

"Honestly, I thought maybe you'd taken pity on me since it was my last day there, and decided to leave work early so we could get ice cream and then maybe go for a snowmachine ride."

"…Is that what you _really_ thought when you saw me walk in?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Um…it's what I hoped for subconsciously?" he ventured. "You know brains are weird, that's _totally _possible."

"Brains are weird, yes, but I don't believe that's what you were thinking when you saw me." _I'm guessing it was more likely along the lines of 'help me, please,'" _he mused. "Still," he allowed, "that doesn't mean that those two things are completely out of the realm of possibility. But we have an appointment first."

"…Oh, yeah, you said that to Mr. Froelich. I thought you were just trying to get us out of there. So where's our appointment?"

"Gotham Academy."

He stiffened. "But I don't start until tomorrow…"

"I know. It's a teacher workday for them, and they offered to give us a tour. You'll get to meet your teachers, we'll pick up your books, and when you go in tomorrow morning you'll know where all of your classrooms are. Remember, you have to move between classes now."

"You…you took off of work just for this?"

"I did," he nodded. _This, and maybe because I had an idea that you weren't going to have such a great last day at your old school. Call it a gut feeling brought on by the fact that you felt it necessary to practice glaring in the mirror for the last two nights._

"…Thanks, Bruce," he shot him that special smile.

"No," he shook his head, "thank _you_. This gave me a great excuse for ducking out of a really boring media relations meeting."

"You're really bad at lying to me, you know that, right?" _I know the real reason. You're here because you love me. Even if you can't say it._ He smiled. _I love you, too, daddy._

"…Yeah, I know, chum," he whispered back as he read the certainty in his gaze. _I wouldn't miss this for the world, Dick. Not for anything._

His eyes flicked away for a second, then back to his guardian's. _I know._

A fierce expression came onto the man's face, settling there for a moment. _Good._

** Author's Note - I just couldn't help it, readers. Van Cleave had to taste justice firsthand.**

**I hope you've all enjoyed this little ride; I certainly enjoyed writing it, and appreciate that you've followed the story all the way through to the end. I'd like to take a moment to clarify a few things regarding plot arcs, as well as to outline where I'm going next with this universe. As I mentioned before, this story was the direct sequel to 'The Princely Pardon;' it was also a prequel to 'Ache of Cowardice' and 'To Catch A Predator.' Now I realize that at this point in time there is nothing linking these two multi-story arcs besides my say-so, but I assure you that a linking story is in the works. That story will be set after 'To Catch A Predator,' and will feature a smarter, even more dangerous Sawyer, along with (of course) Batman and Robin. Kid Flash will have a role to play, as will Woodward.**

**Before that, however, I'll be posting another story in this universe that will be set just a few months after this one. So many of you have expressed a desire to see more young Dick and Bruce that I've decided to write that story (ideally somewhat shorter, but we'll see how that goes, haha) before beginning the linking tale. I also want to develop the growing relationship between Dick and Clark some, since their bond plays a role in 'Ache of Cowardice' and is important in Dick's life in general. So, a few little spoilers, for those who want them; babysitting, pining, and guilt. Oh, and more fluff than you can shake a stick at, but I think you've rather come to expect that from me by this point. I anticipate beginning to post the new story sometime this coming weekend, and will likely post a few shorter things in the interim. I don't quite have a title for the new piece yet, but I will be sure to make it clear in the story description that it is the sequel to this story.**

**Thanks so much to all of you who have read, and especially to you who have reviewed. Your continued support keeps my muse eager. Happy reading!**


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